


Mass Effect: Going Dark

by TheSev



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Novel, Original Character(s), Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 19:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 68,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11020101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSev/pseuds/TheSev
Summary: An original story based in BioWare's Mass Effect universe.Kevin Folner has had his ups and downs working as a mercenary and hitman, but everything at least met expectations. When his salarian friends in the information business learn a mass relay long thought to be dead had been reactivated by the geth, they all see opportunity - and credits - all over it. The trip out is expected to be long and quiet, but when the monotony of the deep space trek is broken by an out-of-place quarian emergency distress call, things take a very drastic turn and Kevin suddenly finds his trip isn't as quiet as he'd hoped. What lies beyond that previously inactive relay? Why would the geth have such interest? Kevin aims to find out and hopefully make enough credits while doing so to be set for life.However, one can never truly be prepared for the things found in the darkest places of the galaxy.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fan novel was my first foray both into creative writing as well as long-term projects and was determined to write the entire thing without beta readers or external editors. I did just that, for better or worse, but the intent was for my own practice/progression. This novel was originally posted on Fanfiction.net and it was suggested I also post it here in AO3. Please bear with me, as I am still learning AO3's formatting setup. Oddly some files are interpreted in different ways. I'm giving the chapters another read-through and making small tweaks as I upload them, so the entire story will come in time.
> 
> Chronologically, this novel begins after Mass Effect 2's primary plot line/Lair of the Shadow Broker but before the Arrival DLC.

### Prologue

            “Chief Daerus, daily reports are ready for you now, sir,” a female turian formally announced from a recently opened doorway.

            Daerus Terril nodded in habit, failing to let his beady eyes part from the blue terminal on the desk in front of him to look at her. “Anything of note this time, Lieutenant Venicar?” he asked with a tone hinging on boredom.

            “None today, sir.” Her shoulders sunk as if she was disappointed for letting her commanding officer down. They quickly sprung back, unable to disrupt the stiff, professional stance required in his presence for long.

            Daerus sighed and waved a hand absentmindedly. The gleaming and polished turian armor of black and gold squeaked with the motion. “Dismissed.”

            The female turian saluted Daerus, turned sharp, and left with brisk haste. It was only when the door closed in absence of her presence that Daerus shut down the haptic adaptive screen of his terminal. Afterwards he sat back in his chair so he could lay his forearms across the equally polished armor of his thighs.

            _Why has it been so quiet?_ he asked himself warily. He could feel frustration mounting in the back of his mind, a frustration born of lack of action. It was as though his whole day was ruined by the fact that there was no notable circumstance extreme enough to warrant his attention. _Since when was this galaxy ever so still?_

            He stood from his bothersome chair. It had been getting increasingly uncomfortable since he had seen the first report on a frigate bearing the name “Normandy SR-2” alongside Cerberus emblems and colors. Given the fact that the SR-1 had disappeared without a word and the only other Normandy-class scout frigates were all accounted for in their respective militaries, the SR-2’s existence was alarmingly sideways. After some incomplete details that hinted at the Omega-4 relay as its destination crossed his desk, it seemed to have dropped off the radar – nothing had been reported since.

            Daerus shook his head and placed a pair of fingers on the thick plates of his red-marked forehead. He needed a walk.

            The glowing sign above the outside of his office door caused a faint cyan hue to saturate the clean-cut hallway just beyond. It read “Chief of Intelligence”, which placed him only as third in command over the Hierarchy’s Military Intelligence Division, just under the Primarch and third to the Hierarchy itself. An esteemed rank, to be sure, but a rank that shouldered one of the heaviest military burdens; keeping the Hierarchy informed of anything and everything, and to filter out the details that warranted their attention so they could be passed up the chain as needed. He didn’t have to walk very far before coming across one of the largest main terminal banks on the ship. The hallway opened up into a large, dim room, swathed in deep ambient blue from arrays of haptic terminal screens.

            Turians of all face-colors in military uniforms sat and worked calmly with trained efficiency in blocks of clustered terminals on long tables. The open room was approximately one deck below the walkway Daerus was currently moving across, but not separated by anything more than a railing at the edge. From here he could overlook this particular group of militant information miners and eye the operations they were working on, despite the fact that the terminals were too distant to be intelligible to his eye. To do that, he had to link the terminal of interest to his own, which sat centered on the railing half-way down the walkway.

            Daerus moved to it and started to look through some of the ongoing monitoring operations in hopes of catching new, raw data as it streamed across any one of his team’s terminals. This was not an uncommon occurrence for him and it happened often enough to warrant a try. He cycled through a few blocks with little success, shaking his head as he moved on to each one.

            Then a voice caught his ear.

            “Sir!” a male turian called out. “Incoming data stream. You’ll want to see this!”

            Daerus recognized the voice immediately. It was Varien Sirexus. He was in charge of monitoring deep-space project communications and specialized broadcasts.

            The Chief of Intelligence linked his terminal up to Varien’s and studied the information collecting on his screen. He brought a hand to his chin as he worked the data through his head. He remembered the project this was supposed to be from, but it had been over a year since he’d gone over anything related to it. “Hmph. This is very late data. Sirexus, bring me up to speed on this project.”

            The turian cleared his throat. “The data is part of Operation Clean Sweep, a joint turian, salarian, and human military project aimed to search the far reaches of the known galaxy for potentially threatening clusters of geth and other such geth activity. This operation was executed by all three races two years ago just after the Battle of the Citadel by sending several collections of long distance scout probes into those remote regions from known locations. This is the last probe to report in. It was labeled as ‘lost’ due to being unaccounted for in such an extended period of time.”

            There was too much data in front of Daerus to infer conclusions, so he had to ask. He almost dreaded Varien’s wordy response. “Any notion as to why this probe took so long to report back?”

            “This was one of the probes sent out to a very remote region of space beyond the relay in the Dholen system, sir. If this data and the history of this project is anything to go by, it had to pass through a lot of empty space before it found anything. There are no listed errors that might have otherwise accounted for the silence.”

            The length of time in its silence wasn’t the only thing that differed about this report. Somewhere well beyond the relay in the Far Rim system, an unmapped relay lay active. While this was highly unusual, it was barely a footnote compared to what information came paired with it. The magnitude of the problem in front of him caused him to swallow dryly. Feeling the need for everyone in his team to see this, Daerus sent the visuals from the probe’s stealthed fly-by to the main screen that took up the majority of the far wall in the room. Silence fell over the terminal blocks as everyone looked up and subsequently failed to concentrate on their tasks. The sight on that screen was daunting, to say the least.

            The image showed a massive fleet of geth ships, known and unknown, assembled around the unmapped and active relay.

            “Spirits…” Daerus mumbled under his breath as he stared at the large screen and his hands involuntarily clenched. His tone was dire. “That’s not going to go over well with the Hierarchy. That’s quite the fleet we’ve missed.”

            He took extensive note of the baffling way the ships were arranged; a giant metallic ring, shining and reflecting the blue-white glow of the mass relay at the center. They were stationary like that, if the subsequent telemetry scans were to be believed, and they generally were. It was almost as if the geth were waiting for something. _Waiting for the return of a collection of scout ships to return, perhaps?_ he thought. _Maybe they were attempting to send data through to see if they got a response. Perhaps they encountered a hostile race on the far side and were covering all angles of the expected FTL drop zone._

            Daerus was a man of facts, of details, of the known. It wasn’t like him to spend so much thought on speculation so wild and unknowable. But this… This was an unusual sight to match his self-reflected unusual behavior. He could feel his stomach tighten in the most nauseating of ways as other thoughts rose unbidden.

            _Or… maybe they were waiting for something far, far more terrible._

            Daerus heard murmurs and hushed chatter below him and his brow-plates pressed together as he listened in. It seemed the sight on the screen had made the ranks uneasy. This wasn’t a known relay formation for any scenario. The purpose of the significant radius the geth seemed to maintain was difficult to interpret as well.

            Daerus stood upright to address his team. “Unusual, yes, but we’re the ones that see the unusual first. Keep your heads on and proceed as normal.”

            Data continued to stream in, but it wasn’t directly from the probe. Rather, it was relayed from the archives on the Citadel where the storage was set aside for the operation as soon as it arrived. This allowed the data to be passed out on channels updated with the latest security encryptions that the probes tended to lack. That particular block, where military scouting operations were either stored or streamed from, was manned by council-picked salarian military under orders to do nothing but make sure the block is secure. They were left with explicit orders not to touch anything, even to monitor the data stream – or so Daerus had been told. He had serious doubts as to how well those few would keep to that order, especially if news that a previously unmapped and now active mass relay was discovered.

            Increasingly curious, the Chief of Intelligence continued to pour over the numbers and visuals provided by their ever-helpful probe, but as he reviewed, the helmsman called over the local deck sound emitters.

            “Chief Terril?”

            Daerus lifted his eyes from his terminal to stare at the large screen again. “This is Chief Terril. Go ahead.”

            “Sir, the other captains in the flotilla are getting anxious over sitting here monitoring data when we’ve been summoned to the Citadel. What shall I tell them?”

            Their cruiser, the communications behemoth named the _Insight_ , was heading there for some political purpose Daerus did not care for, and the skittish behavior of the captains that always surfaced whenever the Citadel or council was involved irked him terribly. This time, however, the timing proved to be convenient. He’d soon be able to look at the raw data for himself and discuss this classified information with a few admirals.

            Daerus sighed, loud and long. “The Citadel makes a house call and everyone within five lightyears of the ship pisses their armor. Tell them we—”

            Daerus was interrupted by an alarm on his terminal and a flashing red section of his screen pulled his attention away from the unnerving ring of geth ships on the wall.

            “Security breach!” shouted Kalin Thortus, who was the chief of security monitoring. “Backdoor to the Citadel archives military scouting data cluster has been opened!”

            “What…?” Daerus wondered aloud with a calm tilt of the head. Citadel network and data security was bleeding edge and generally hosted on a network not accessible from external nodes. How in the galaxy did someone manage to open a back door at all? Worst of all, he knew this information was several minutes old at best—even military priority on the comm buoy tightbeams took time to cross the galaxy.

            “Isolate and extrapolate,” Daerus ordered, swift and absolute. “How wide is the breach? And get me the manner of entry. No self-entitled code pyjack on the extranet could just _tunnel_ into the archives.” He spat those words, as though such a breach was an insult to his profession.

            “Isolating…” Thortus declared. “Looks local to that data block, sir. Only the details to this particular operation have been compromised. A highly precise breach.”

            “And entry?”

            “This is… also local, sir. Reports show that the ports were deliberately opened on the host machine’s own command lines.”

            Daerus shook his head, a low growl held back in his throat. “ _This_ is why we don’t leave personnel with minimum clearance to secure the storage.” He sighed angrily, letting his emotions show for just a moment. “Shut down the block and have those posted apprehended. Find me the Dalatrass that insisted on this ‘security measure’ and have her routed to my terminal in five. And for the love of the Spirits, alert the council that there are rogue salarians trouncing about their beloved archives.” Delegation. Quick, precise, efficient.

            Several quick acknowledgements sounded off from the individuals tasked with those orders and one or two turians moved out of the room with purpose in their swift steps while others focused hard on their terminals. Daerus looked back to his data and linked up the proper terminal to get some information on the breach itself. It was a crude but effective console exploit that allowed opening of unused network resources and ports. _Curious,_ Daerus mused. _It must have been an oversight due to how few are even permitted into the archives. The next security summit will be hearing about this for certain._

            Once he could confirm that the breach had been contained, he let the heightened tension in his shoulders slip away. It took around fourteen minutes for the order to reach the Citadel, or so he calculated. It took nearly another thirty for the containment confirmation to return to his terminal. The staunch chief then realized his relaxation was premature, judging by the quick and dirty report that was filed with the confirmation.

            Beady eyes flicked over the grammatically lax bits of information, and he cursed under his breath. It seemed that a few _very_ timely connections had been made to the data cluster when the salarians opened it up and had started mining data before the hardline was cut. Only two had gotten anything of note, however. One was a late connection that managed to get enough data to detail out the coordinates of the relay and a small collection of minor details. The other one, however, must have been a coordinated attempt as the connection was made mere minutes after the breach was complete. _That_ one had nearly all the information that had been relayed from the Citadel to the _Insight_.

            That wasn’t even the worst of it. Thanks to some curiously specific meddling done by those same salarians, crucial pieces of information needed to trace those remote connections had been fragmented to the point of uselessness. The best they would be able to piece together is what _star system_ the connection came from. Not exactly the kind of pinpoint accuracy they needed to stage a cease and desist raid.

            “Terril to the bridge,” he called across the comms as he leaned firm against the railing behind his terminal, his arms spread wide around the screen. His grip was tight and his armor squelched as his fingers wrapped around it. “Take us into FTL. We need to hit the Citadel yesterday.”

            “What about your call to the Dalatrass, sir?” one of the turians below reminded him.

            “The Dalatrass can wait,” he shot back, firm and unyielding. _I’d much rather rake the coals under her feet in front of the council for this blunder,_ he silently added. “Soon as we arrive, send for my office on the Presidium to be prepped.”

            Acknowledgement rang out and Daerus stood upright, rigid. In truth, he wasn’t looking forward to the silly antics and political fallout this could potentially create, but he was nothing if not a difficult turian when it came to security, cyber or not. Such absurd oversight, or worse, intentional placement, spat in the face of everything he worked for in this position. Undermining his work ruffled his metaphorical feathers more than almost anything.

            The chief shut down his railing-side terminal for now and started back towards his office. His mind was blanketed with thoughts of that relay and the geth in their extremely unorthodox formation. The more he thought about it, the more his stomach wrought. He had to sit down. _Just how am I going to get them to pay attention to this when an archives breach just occurred?_ He didn’t think that would even ping on his peers’ radar after something like that.

            Back in his office, he sat down in his chair heavily and pulled himself to the proper sitting position at his desk. His terminal blinked to life automatically and he called upon the data from the probe once more. He stared at the image with furrowed browplates, his brain churning and formulating as he tried to come up with some logical conclusion, but the only ones that made even remote sense were the ones he had thought up earlier.

            It was then that he gave the general location of the relay some thought. _They’re days away from linking up to nearby comm buoy,_ he thought with a fist passively brought to his mouth. _How long have they been there? Are they even active?_ As far as he could tell from the sequence of images taken by the fly-by, none of them even moved. They seemed suspended in place. Even that did not quell the uneasiness that caused his flesh to tingle under his hard carapace, however. There was something incredibly off about this, but he dared not send any host to investigate.

            “Sir,” a female voice called to him, the familiar flange of her voice distorted by the intra-vessel comms.

            “Not now, Venicar.” He waved his hand in dismissal as if she were there with him.

            “You ordered us to notify you of this immediately, sir.” She didn’t even sound sorry, that blasted woman.

            Daerus sighed. And sat back in his chair, jaw clenched for but a moment. “Very well, what is it?”

            “There was some information in the last burst of data before we jumped to FTL, sir. That human you asked us to track… the one with shady connections?”

            “What of him? Has he been found?” he asked curtly. This man had held Daerus’s interest for near a year now. His connections were undeniably powerful, but were barely shadows in his wake. He seemed to leave webs of malicious intent everywhere he went, but only one who managed to track him as long as Daerus had could even begin to see them, well played as they were.

            “Indeed. One of our agents on the Citadel spotted him leaving the embassies. He has plans to ‘take a vacation’ on Omega.”

            Daerus leaned forward and laced his six fingers together in interest as he put weight onto the arms resting just shy of the holographic interface on the desk. “Do we have an available agent there?”

            Having this man drop by Omega was fortunate. He could order in a cabal squad once he had some solid evidence on the dealing he was about to partake in. No deals this man made were for the benefit of all within Citadel space, and he had no shortage of confidence that getting this information from him while he was busy working his magic during his stay on the rock would be just a matter of time.

            “We do. He is currently unassigned.”

            “Have him make preparations for Werner’s arrival. I want the docking guard wherever he makes berth thinned out so we have an opening for apprehension.”

            As long as no one who cared was aware, he wouldn’t have to risk any galactic political blowback. Not until he had his leads, at least. The plan hinged on that moment, however, and he couldn’t make any moves unless he had that moment of obscurity. His connections could cut him off completely if they found he was compromised, and a wise man knew that eyes were always watching on that station. He knew _that_ all too well.

            “There’s one more thing, sir.”

            “What now?”

            “He’s being followed.”

            Daerus parted his hands and set them on the desk as he frowned, his mandibles clenching to his cheeks and sliding downward while he gripped the edge of the table tightly.

            “ _Damnit!”_


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I knew why AO3 doesn't allow Prologues and Epilogues in the chapter order. Having "Chapter 2: Chapter One" looks stupid and just plain confusing.

### Chapter One

            “Damn, I hate this place,” said a sullen human as he pushed passed a group of armored batarians with his hands jammed into the pockets of his faded Systems Alliance casual military jacket. “Of all the places to go, he _had_ to go to Omega.” He looked over the heads of those ahead of him and saw his distant destination—the most popular club in all of the Terminus Systems, Afterlife.

            Down the crowded street of the ancient space station, an absolutely massive holographic screen pulsed brightly over the entrance to the club with the visually stimulating dance routine of Afterlife’s featured entertainer. Tonight it was the ever-sultry asari named Namila Molorah, an obvious choice given her popularity amongst the swath of customers that frequented the place. A good deal of the eyes of the soon-to-be patrons, who had been standing in line to gain entrance to the club for anywhere from a few minutes to a couple hours, were fixed on the display, and some were likely hoping against hope they’d get the chance to have her dance for them.

_Best of luck with that,_ Kevin Folner thought to himself as he approached the huge cylindrical building perched in the open between two other main structures. Hazel eyes skimmed over the incredibly diverse press of those amongst the street rather than watch the screen. He was always wary of threats. Some might have called him ‘borderline paranoid’, but he liked to call it ‘survival’. True enough, most folks out here in the Terminus Systems were as likely to shoot you as they were to shake your hand. _Just keep your head forward and your guise consistent. You’ve got business to handle today._

            The closer he got to the club, the more alive the awful recycled smog of an atmosphere became. The music within was so loud that the muffled bass constantly pervaded the surrounding streets and made the very air vibrate. Despite the sweeping, open view of Omega’s many spires beyond the club, an atmospheric maintainer field kept the air—and the noise—within a stone’s throw of the far side of Afterlife. More often than not, this field acted like a flat wall, acoustically, and murmurs, din, and music alike reverberated back to the streets many times over to fill the ears of those passing by.

            Kevin ran a hand through his inch-long brown hair and habitually rubbed his fingers together to determine the state of it. He grimaced. “God, this place just coats you in a film of nasty. How do people _live_ here?” He had an apartment in the residential blocks, but he tended not to use it unless he had to. It was his only safe haven here, and he didn’t mean to give that away to any watching eyes, and eyes were _always_ watching on Omega.

            When he reached the massive line that eventually headed into Afterlife, he scrunched up his nose. “Hmm. Two hours, maybe… two and a half. Poor suckers.”

            A pair of turians at the end of the line turned their hooded heads around to eye him maliciously. _Hah, they heard me._ Kevin simply tilted his head and raised a brow when he stared back, feigning confusion. They muttered something to each other and returned their attention to the screen.

            With a grin, Kevin side-stepped around the end of the line and walked alongside it right up to where the checkpoint was to go in He could feel the laser eyes shooting him in the back as he practically skipped with amusement by the poor suckers all at once. An armored turian wielding an M-8 Avenger stationed at the base of the stairs that led up to the double-wide entrance door spotted him as he strode on by the line. He made no attempt to stop Kevin, but instead  simply offered a nod that he reciprocated. At the top of the stairs on the same side loomed a krogan whose eyes snapped to Kevin’s approaching person. For this guard, he stopped a moment.

            “Hey Targold. How's things?”

            The krogan's disposition shifted from menacing and pissed to only _slightly_ less pissed and marginally amiable. “Folner. Back for more of this stinkhole?”

_Stinkhole. Yeah, that sounds pretty apt._ Indeed, the smells directly around the club had shifted from general filth via refuse and homeless people of all races to a thick, swirling concoction of questionable hygienics, omnipresent intoxication, sweat, and a vast array of recreational drugs. Kevin’s nose twitched reflexively at the raunchiness of it, but he’d more or less gotten used to it by now.

            “Yes and no. I'm on a job,” Kevin stated as he fell into the pulsing shadow of his first real conversation partner of the night. Standing at a massive eight feet and somewhere around six inches, Targold outsized him by a good two and a half feet.

            “Another job, huh? At least you're keeping in the workforce. Not like the rest of the crap I have to scrape off of my boots,” he said as he gestured towards the long line. “Hey, since you're here, maybe we should hit the third level bar later. Your treat.”

            “A tempting offer,” he refused with a slight laugh as he shook his head, “but I'm not sure how this job will play out. Might need to get out of dodge if things go south.”

            “I’ve got a solution for that,” the krogan suggested as he tinkered with a setting on his M-27 Scimitar shotgun. “Don’t screw up.”

            Kevin laughed. “You, sir, are a veritable _well_ of indispensable knowledge. You know me, I’ll improvise. Doesn’t mean I won’t get half the mercs in the station after me, though. Already walking the edge of an omni-blade with the gangs all about.”

            Targold shrugged. “Too much work if a good punch to the throat doesn’t solve the problem. Maybe that’s why you’re the hitman and I’m just a doorstop.” He looks over the crowd again, frowning the deepest frown Kevin had ever seen on a krogan. “Oh well. Guess it's another boring night for me, then. You know how it is, being a doorstop. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight and someone will do something stupid.”

            As if summoned by those very words, a batarian stepped out of the waiting line and started shouting at Kevin and Targold, consequently interrupting their all too friendly conversation and garnering plenty of attention from the rest of the line. His words were indecipherable at first, the meaning lost in the din and throbbing bass, but inevitably, he got loud as upset batarians were known to do.

            “This is an outrage! That human killed half my family! Why should that _murderer_ get direct access?” The question ended with an accusatory point at Kevin while he and Targold paused to simultaneously look in the four-eyed accuser's direction.

            “Hold that thought,” Targold muttered with a crack of a smile. “Looks like tonight may not be so boring after all.” He turned towards the batarian, who by now was trying to incite a bit of anger amongst the crowd. A few others seemed to take up his call and stepped behind him.

            Targold squinted down at the noise. “I know you. Your brothers pissed Aria off by trying to redirect some of her dancers to a slave ship,” the krogan pointed out, his rumbling voice carrying across the entire street and echoing back. “The meatbags deserved it, and it's their own fault they got their asses handed to them.” He smiled and patted his shotgun. “You want to be the next one to go? I’ve got no reservations or restrictions about putting down a fire starter like you.”

            While his ‘friends’ had gone silent at being addressed by the doorstop, the batarian, apparently, hadn't had enough yet.

            “So what is it we're to do then? We just wallow in our impatience while this blatant slaughterer walks by us all and is granted immediate access? That's absurd! Insulting!”

            Targold stepped down the stairs just then, leaving a visibly amused Kevin behind. The krogan, fully armored and resting his shotgun against his shoulder, stepped right up face-to-face with the whiner. “You want to walk right in?” The fierce velocity of his thundering voice had decidedly failed to reduce despite the change in distance. “Then you have two options. Try to walk in and I get to shoot you, or do good work for Aria and get the perks. I'm perfectly fine with the first option, but it would be just as entertaining to watch the boss’s people wipe their asses with your ugly face.”

            The batarian blinked his upper set of eyes by themselves—a telling sign of stress to those who know batarians—and his strong demeanor shattered so visibly at falling under a krogan’s shadow that Kevin almost lost it and cracked up then and there. Those who once stood behind him were long gone, not even bothering to get back in line. Even still, the typically stubborn batarian rushed onward, heedless.

            “Th-then I'll just go work for Aria! Wh-what would you s-say to that?”

            Targold laughed only once right in his face. “Hah! You want to go work for Aria? Be my guest. Along with the ass-wiping, there’s more you get to look forward to. I’ll give you an example.” He reached forward and grasped the top of the batarian’s head to turn it to make him look at Kevin at the top of the stairs. “That human up there has made some big enemies working for her, and not just upstart little pricks like you.” The batarian was jabbed with the muzzle of the shotgun when he said ‘you’. “Most of the top gangs want him rotting in the streets. He has to dodge them on a daily basis while doing those jobs.” He then slowed his words for increased emphasis. “You think you can handle that, _tough guy_?”

            Kevin’s head rolled back and he stared at the ceiling. _Oh damnit Targold… You had to announce me to the masses. I wonder how many gang members are out there right now._

            Targold’s face was so close to the batarian’s that the fearful alien blinked every time air wafted from those krogan nostrils. He finally admitted defeat. He must have, if the liquid darkening a line down the inside of the leg of his pants was any indication. He didn't even bother to slink back into line, but instead opted to leave entirely, and quickly. The doorstop watched him leave only for a few seconds before he returned to his post on the stairs.

            Before Kevin could even say anything, Targold drew in a deep, satisfied breath. “I love a good intimidation. Kind of wish he had just tried to shoot me, though.”

            Kevin laughed and brought a hand to his face with fingers resting on his brow. “You make it sound like I'm Aria's star employee of the month.”

            “You should be thankful,” Targold said with a curved smirk. “I just added some flavor to your reputation.”

            “Targold, I don’t think my reputation needs any more spice, thank you very much. I’m already feeling the heat regularly.” Omega’s top gangs were already on his heels more often than not for his contracted hits against them. Apparently ‘don’t shoot the messenger, shoot the sender’ didn’t fit into the Eclipse, Blood Pack, and Blue Suns’ creed.

            Targold grinned menacingly. “That’s good. It’ll keep you sharp, and there’s no better way to beat an attacking force than to send their attackers’ heads back to them. How about that? _Two_ favors.”

            Kevin should have known better than to argue the concept of how intentionally facing odds that grew steadily against him was bad for business, but occasionally the sense fled him and he just got himself into an ironic losing argument. He decided that he needed to move on, however, as his meeting wasn’t going to wait forever, and he shrugged. “Krogan.” He turned towards the doors and threw his massive friend a wave. “I'll talk to you later, Targold. Duty calls.”

            “Have fun,” he returned dully. “And try not to get shot up too bad. We still need to have that drink later.”

            The guards and doorkeepers at Afterlife knew Kevin well enough to let him through without much opposition. He'd done a small number of jobs for Aria T'Loak, and gained a finite, but measurable amount of favor with her. It was just enough recognition to get through the doors without waiting in lines for hours on end, but not enough for him to be considered one of her cronies; a difficult position to maintain, given how most quickly find themselves fully employed by the station’s queen sooner or later.

            This juxtaposition to Aria was a blessing _and_ a curse, of course. While it allowed him easy and frequent access to the most important establishment in Omega, it also meant that he had to keep eyes on every dark corner he passed by. Aria's quiet opposition always sought to undermine her whenever she wasn't looking, and to them Kevin was just another easily removed assets she wouldn't lose sleep over if he suddenly and violently disappeared.

            As he walked the flaming hall that led to the main inner doors he tried to think about the positives Omega had to offer him. He realized that for all the things he disliked about Omega, there was at least one thing about it he did thoroughly enjoy: Afterlife. He was no stranger to that type of scene—at twenty-six years of age, he’d been to a number of clubs across the galaxy and he was at just the right age to fit right in with younger, yet experienced end of the patrons.

            Omega, though… Afterlife’s scene was more raw, and entirely unrestricted unless you caused a scene. Purgatory was in the Presidium, so it was always subject to judging eyes of the many and all kinds of limitations that tended to promote silly inhibitions. That was one of Omega’s best features: things here felt more genuine and free. He always got a small boost of adrenaline whenever he stepped inside and saw the flashing colors, shifting lights, and wild crowds. The feel of the constant throbbing beat from the deafeningly loud music jostling his innards was entrancing to him. He loved dancing in the middle of the crowd, and though he was no professional dancer by any means, he knew how to dance well enough so that he disappeared in the myriad of veteran club-goers.

            Unfortunately for Kevin, he was not here to party this time. He was quickly reminded of this when the clerk behind the desk just inside to doors asked him for his weapons—an old M-3 Predator and an ornate black-metal monomolecular blade. He had a job to do, and he had to be sure that he kept his focus on it. He prided himself in his ability to stay focused, but some things were so distracting that it was hard to pass them by. For most people, it was the sultry asari dancers on the platform hanging above the rest of the room acting as ever-desirable eye candy. In Kevin's case, though, it was his regular partner on the dance floor. She just _happened_ to be asari. And she just _happened_ to find him barely a few minutes into the club.

            She sauntered over towards him as he made his way by the edges of the dance floor. “Heya Kev, wanna dance?” she beckoned, almost yelling so she could be heard over the music. “I'm really feeling it today~.”

            They had known each other since his first visit to Afterlife. Dancing with her was what got Kevin addicted to the club scene in the first place. The intoxicating sense of ecstasy she radiated whenever their bodies pressed together had a way of coating his senses as they moved to the beat of the music. Though their meager relationship bloomed on Afterlife's dance floor, it was also where it ended. They never once left the club together.

            “Oh. Hey Maera,” Kevin responded with a half-wave and a smile. “Don't you ever leave?”

            She smirked. “Only when I tire myself out! So… are you going to dance or what?” She asked while batting her eyes at him and nibbling on her bottom lip.

            Maera was attractive. Not just in the body, but her face was beautifully shaped and the light-ish tint of her blue skin was impeccable as well. He couldn’t ask for a more eye-catching dance partner. Beyond that she had a wonderfully excitable and bubbly personality. He’d have swept her off her feet to dance the night away if he could, but not tonight. He had a job to handle, and though her distraction was a welcome one, he knew he’d have to disappoint her for now.

            Reluctantly, he refused. “Sorry, I can't. I'm on a job tonight.”

            “Aww, but this is my favorite song! Come on, dance with me!” She stepped closer and leaned forward to find Kevin's left hand with both of her own to tug at him. She gave him that look she always gives him in the midst of the heat of their dance sessions. Kevin didn't know a bigger flirt than Maera.

            “Every song's your favorite song, Maera,” he calmly stated with a chuckle, placing a hand on hers and then removing both from her grasp. “I promise I'll come back later and we'll tear this place up, alright?”

            “Ugh,” she grunted as she backed up, irritation plain on her face. “Fine, but you owe me one hell of a dance,” she demanded. As she turned to walk back into the crowd, she murmured something she probably didn't expect Kevin to hear. “Goddess, you're always busy these days…”

            Kevin sighed deep, feeling accomplished that he’d handled it so well. _Now where was I_ , he thought. _Ah yes, back to business_. There was a gentleman he needed to meet, and he figured this man wouldn't be hard to find. Kevin had a hunch that he stuck out like a nigh-comical sore thumb in this dump. The information provided to him on his mark was very clear: “Wealthy. Likes to flaunt as much. Always has three guards at his side. Beware of extremely stiff and expensive suits.”

            High-nose business types were uncommon on Omega, but not unheard of. More often than not, they made their way to Afterlife to discuss unsavory deals or broker agreements that the eyes of Citadel Space don’t approve of. In most cases, though, they were intelligent enough to downplay their existence as to not draw the eyes of the thugs and gangs. Big name company CEOs make great hostages when ransoming credits is concerned.

            This man of his, however lacked all of that sense altogether. That, or his absurd ego and overt confidence blinded him. It only took Kevin a whole minute and a half after escaping Maera to locate him, and he was already drawing the eyes of many of the less savory patrons. If he knew about their intentions, he was doing a good job of showing his concern.

            Linus Werner was a tall man, almost to the point of being lanky. He had a very clean look to him that truly did make him stand out. Between his clean shave and close-cut, side-swept chestnut hair and his expensive-looking and stiff business suit, it was plain to see that this man was not a normal figure around here. _Idiot. He must be begging for trouble. I need a new plan, or someone else will score a hit on his wallet before I score a hit on him._ He needed to get involved immediately rather than wait for his opportunity to strike. _This will take some time. Those bodyguards will suspect me as trouble from the get-go. Three will be trouble. I need to separate them._

            He played out a few possible scenarios in his head before he selected one that allowed him the most improvisational freedom. _There’s an open seat at their table,_ he noticed. _A bold plan, but it’ll fit best with the surroundings._ With that in mind, he moved away from the always-gyrating and sweat-laden dance floor to make his way towards his target who was sitting at a table to the right of the long bar with his three stooges—two turians and a human. He stopped at the bar along the way to get a drink to help his guise seem more convincing. “Something light,” he told the bartender with a shallow wave. “Need to stay focused tonight.”

            When he finally got to the table, Kevin sat down in the open chair without so much as even acknowledging the guards’ presence. He knew the sort that took guards with them everywhere felt more comfortable when their protection was quiet and out of the way, but still well and truly there. He sat back comfortably in his seat and sipped at his drink, which was little more than piss-flavored water. He hated it, but it was necessary.

            The three stooges took immediate notice and the two turians reflexively felt their hips where their sidearms would have been. They looked alarmed, but they more seemed offended that one of the vermin from Omega’s folds had the audacity to sit at the same table as _His_ _Excellency_. The human grimaced and was about to get up to remove Kevin.

            The suited man casually raised a single hand for a moment to deter his guards. “Easy there,” he ordered with a calm smile. “It’s just a local. If he’d wanted to rob me, he’d have tried already.”

            Kevin nodded in thanks. “You must be new around here, suit-man. A crisp set of threads and an entourage like this are going to get a lot of unwelcome attention. People know you’ve got creds to spare just by looking at you.” Casual enough, given the suit’s obvious visual displacement.

            The clean-cut man smiled, though it seemed forced to Kevin’s eye. “Duly noted, but I hope you don’t mind if I keep them around anyways. I much prefer negotiation to hostile financial transfers, and these guys help keep my odds of getting the former favorable.”

            Kevin chuckled. _Arrogant. And blind._ He leaned forward onto the table with one elbow and dropped his tone. “Understandable, but a few guards don’t deter much more than the rats in the streets and amateur thieves. Fat stacks of cash like yours make some raving mad and prone to strike despite stupid odds.”

            Suit-man nodded to Kevin’s point and smiled again. “True enough, however, those ‘fat stacks of cash’ can also turn an entire room to my cause if need be. Throw enough credits in someone’s face and you’re bound to get them to see that free money and no trouble are better for business—and survival—than risking life for whatever’s lining my pockets.”

            Kevin leaned back to sit comfortably in the chair again. _Arrogant and he knows it. What’s worse, he actually knows how money works._ “Spoken like a true rich man. I like your style. Still doesn’t stop the crazies, though.”

            “Perhaps you don’t understand. Allow me to demonstrate.” The high-class man stood up, raised his glass of alcohol towards the bar, donned his best businessman’s smile, and began to shout above the din to the many other patrons. “Drinks for all! On my tab! That’s right; drinks are all on me tonight!”

            A good deal of the patrons was turning to see who was shouting free drinks at them, smiles on all their faces. The eyes that had been watching him before suddenly seemed less irritated by his presence and more pleased by his offer. In a single move, he disarmed every immediate threat. With _fat stacks of cash_. For some reason, that irritated Kevin. Maybe it was that clever marks were much more difficult to surprise. It did give Kevin some more breathing room, however, as now he wasn’t in direct competition with time for this man’s head.

            Sir Moneybags sat back down as if nothing had even happened. “And this is where my worries end. If anyone wants to get to me now, they have to get through the entire club first. You see, they now understand I’m open-handed, and they’d much rather tail me in hopes of free things and collecting the credits that spill from my coat pockets than try to open my throat.”

            “Clever,” Kevin said with a slight nod. “Alright, so you can handle yourself. What's your name, suit-man?” He sipped at his flavored piss and shifted to an even more casual position in his seat. _If he says anything other than Linus Werner, I’ll know he’s not as much of an idiot as I had initially judged._

            “My name is Simon Kellius, my good man.” His stiff body leaned forward to offer a polite and business-like handshake. Kevin could almost hear the crinkles in his no doubt over-ironed shirt and blazer.

            He stared at the hand for a moment before he received. _Nice to meet you, Linus._ “Jack Thort.” A blatant lie for a blatant lie. Jack Thort was his current running moniker that added a thin layer between him and the gangs who wanted his head. It worked well enough for now. “So what brings you wealthy types out of your palace and into a miserable and filthy hovel like this?”

            Simon Deep-Pockets nodded absentmindedly as if he silently agreed with the ‘miserable and filthy hovel’ part of the question. “Depends on who you talk to. To some I’m on vacation. To others, I’m pursuing important business ventures here on the station. To people like you, I’m here to throw creds around and announce my presence like a glorified asshole.” He snickers. “For them, I’ve got my three friends here.”

            He gestured to his stooges each in turn. The first was a turian with white, curved lines like dancing fire on his face. The second, the other turian, was slightly meaner in his glares and he sported sharp blue shapes on his mandibles and forehead. The last was the human. He was olive-skinned and well-built.

            “Tarjack, Neejack, and Bojack.”

            Kevin laughed heartily at the pet names. “My God, are you serious? I mean, those can’t be your real names, but still…”

            Tarjack rolled his eyes and apparently felt the need to defend the tasteless naming scheme. “We get paid enough to not care what our callsigns are.”

            “Callsigns, huh? Is that what they’re calling that these days?” He stifled another laugh with his drink. To his relief, Linus seemed quite amused. “Alright then, assuming you’re _not_ here to be a glorified asshole, let’s go with the vacation story. Needed to get away from it all, huh? Omega’s certainly the place to do that, though probably not the one with the most excursions and amenities unless you like refuse-diving and backstreet whores with a pinch of gang thugs.”

            Simon Fatwallet laughed and gave Kevin a measuring glance. He pursed his lips together in thought, then nodded as if to say ‘I approve’. “Truth is,” Simon continued, “I'm on vacation from my workplace and decided that I needed to find a location that promoted loosening up without the condescending atmosphere. Work has me on high strings every day and I was beginning to lose my mind. Omega isn’t the most savory of places, true, but it’s certainly one of the few where I can indulge in a few vices without worrying about my image. That said, I wanted to 'check the scene' and see if I could 'shake it down' or somesuch.”

            Kevin placed a pressed thumb and index finger on the bridge of his nose. “Oh God, stop. Just stop. Intentional or not, that literally _hurt_ me.” He had to take a moment to shake off the absurdity, which Linus also found amusing. He decided to switch gears to prevent that from happening again. “Why not try some of the clubs on the Citadel? Purgatory is bigger and just as easy to disappear in. Omega seems like a strange place for such a simple endeavor.”

            Captain Stash McCash flicked a hand in dismissal. “The Citadel has too many of my business contacts and customers. I can't even walk around the Presidium without running into them. Illium has a similar problem in that regard. I needed an uncouthly energetic place with no potential for business run-ins. Everyone in the business knows about Omega, but it was recommended to me through a friend and decided to give it a try on his word.”

            “Seems believable enough,” Kevin shrugged, accepting the story as a markedly good lie. “Look, the only way to really loosen up here is to have a few too many drinks, dance until you pass out, and wake up in your apartment wondering what happened. Maybe next to an asari or two, if you get my meaning.”

            Simon fell silent for a little while as he pondered the consequences of such a ride. He looked over the crowds all over this level of the club, most drunk or high as a kite. Some were dancing, some were flirting, some were watching the scantily clad dancers up high, and some were outright sucking face with another where they stood. Whatever activity they chose to partake in, they all seemed to be having a great time. It seemed to Kevin, however, that Simon was not.

            Then a breakthrough came.

            “Why the hell not? You’ve piqued my interest, Mr. Thort, but I’ll charge you with leading the rest of the night’s activities.”

            Kevin titled his head. “Me? Surely I’m not the most trustworthy-looking guy in this hellhole. What makes you want _me_ as your guide to a good night out on the town?”

            The man nodded slowly. “Nobody in this station can be trusted, no. However, there are a number of things about you that make you more qualified than most. Your hands haven’t been near my pockets, for one. Two, you can hold a decent conversation for more than five minutes without derailing into barbaric topics. Three, you wear a Systems Alliance jacket that is so old it could _only_ have actually been military issue to still be in one piece. Lastly, you’re knowledgeable enough about how to survive and navigate one of the galaxy’s most devilish of space stations which makes you an asset to have around—especially when inebriation is inevitable.”

            Kevin nodded in thanks. “Well well, compliments all around. Keep that up and I might even be buying you dinner later. Alright then, I’ll lead the party for you. You did manage to pay for my drinks tonight, it’s the least I can do. I have but one condition: you follow the few simple rules I’ve personally learned for having a great time on Omega.”

            Mr. Kellius was instantly suspicious, and he squinted at Kevin. “Rules such as…?”

            Kevin stood from his chair and lifted his glass. “Rule number one: If you’re not drunk enough to dance, you’re not drunk enough. Rule two: If you don’t have an asari walking you home, you’re not drunk enough.”

            Major Moneybags relaxed his stance, seemingly relieved at the harmless nature of Kevin’s rules. He even managed to crack a smile and laugh. “Fair enough, my good man. And don’t worry about trouble. My entourage here will not be having any drinks tonight, so we can count on them to be our logic and reason after ours have fled. To the bar, then?”

            Kevin smiled wide. “To the bar!”

            That endeavor proved to be an easy opportunity to numb Simon’s cognition. For a man with wealthy tastes, he certainly didn’t seem have a lot of experience or knowledge with exotic spirits and wines. Kevin wasn’t a drinker, but he knew what drinks were strong, what drinks crept up on you, what drinks tasted like piss, and what drinks straight up knocked you on your ass—all from listening or watching patrons indulge.

            He chose a set of asari and batarian drinks that were known to seem completely inert until the specialized mix started to come apart and filter into the blood stream. Once that happened, the drinker could be completely unaware of how drunk he’d just become until he tried to do anything requiring fine motor skills and failed miserably. _Just the drink I need to put this wary man out of his wits._ For himself, he chose a drink that was on the sweet side to offset the terrible aftertaste left from his earlier drink, this one also with a decidedly very minor alcoholic presence.

            Kevin ordered a pair of moderately sized glasses for each of them and he began what he considered the most irritating but most crucial phase of his process. He began to talk with Linus about anything and nothing all at once. Starting with things to do around Omega that might suit the tastes of someone like Mr. Werner, he began to draw out a long conversation. Those that came to the bar during this time made sure to stop by and crack jokes with Linus and thank him for the drinks. These moments gave Kevin critical looks into whether or not Linus was holding his liquor, as his ability to smoothly alter his personality to address cold-approaching strangers became clumsier with each patron.

            Eventually Stiffsuit was asked for a source of money to pay for the heavy tab he’d started and he dug into a specialized hidden pocket sown into the interior of his expensive jacket. He pulled out a bank-issued credit chit, marked with the name “Linus J. Werner”. Fortunately for Kevin, Linus had all but forgotten that he was running a cover name or elsewise forgot to slide the chit to the bartender face-down. Kevin wasn’t thrilled about things taking this long to get confirmation, but he’d been following this guy for a while now. He knew he was on the right track.

            After the glasses were gone, they grabbed one more a piece and headed back to the table where Linus’s entourage was waiting, looking more frustrated than bored. Kevin could have almost counted down to the minute when he expected the massive kick from Linus’s drinks would drop in, and because the man was already sitting, he didn’t seem to notice it very much. After that, the conversations became far more amusing, and Kevin altered his behaviors for a drunken disguise.

            “So I walked into this room, right?” explained the drunk, hands flailing slightly. “T-two krogan, big ass krogan, both telling me to take a hike because they knew I was… I was there to free the asari maidenhands… handmaidens. I saw a bunch them all chain-chained up to a pole and I grabbed this long-ass piece of pipe and beat the living-ever heeeellllll out of those three kr-krogan.”

_Three now?_ thought Kevin who stole a glance at the bodyguards to gauge their current dispositions. They were looking to each other, all rolling eyes and shaking heads. If he had to guess, they couldn’t wait for this night’s shenanigans to be done with. This was good. Impatient guards were easier to manipulate. “Hah!” Kevin said brashly, throwing a fist into the air. “Fatasses deserved it!”

            “Then I freed the asari and took them all ri-right there, and they loved it. After that I… what the hell did I do… oh, I paid off another fatass krogan mer-merc to be bait so I could slip away undectedetecteded. I hacked a cr-crappy stolen shuttle and flew off to my station in—”

            Linus was interrupted by ‘Bojack’, the human bodyguard, who’d not-so-subtly given his boss a firm jab in the arm. When Linus looked over to him in irritation, Bojack simply pointed to a small galactic clock built into the armor over his wrist to indicate just how many hours had passed. Linus scoffed, but after one last toss-back of his glass, he acquiesced. “Well Jackie m-my boy, it seems it’s… it’s… it’s time for me. To turn in f-for the night. You know, I acq-acquired a wonderful, glor-glor-glorious apartment here in ‘mega. You’re welcome to have a t-tour of the place before I cr-crash for th’night.”

            Kevin continued on with his drunken performance. “I can’t s-say no to that, now can I?” He stood, wobbled a bit, then waited for Sir Sloshed to be helped up from his seat by two of his personal guard. He was finding this more amusing than he’d originally expected. No apartment on Omega _anywhere_ could be called glorious.

            “I’ll t-tell you all about the… the plans I’ve made to soup the pl-place up,” Linus began with ever-increasing drunken accents. “Even the g-great Aria LaToak will be j-jealous of it when I’m done. Tur-turret emplacesments, dancer poles, women everywhere… Oh, and one of those funny fountain things th-that shower alcohol or s-s-somethin’.”

            Kevin pretended to be astonished at his bold plans and followed him and his bodyguards out of the club and into the streets. They’d only stopped periodically on the way out to gather all of their weapons, Kevin being the last to do so to mask his stop by flirting with the asari at the desk. She shrugged him off rather fluidly after handing him his weapons. The patrons and soon-to-be equivalents gave the pair of drunkards no more mind than they would an insect on the floor, and he liked it that way. As they headed for Linus’s supposedly glorious apartment several crowded and less savory streets away near the entrance to the apartment blocks, the rich man felt the need to reiterate all his grand stories about his fierceness in a fight, his popularity with the ladies, and his masterful cunning; none of which seemed very accurate, suave, or clever by any measure, especially with how hard it was to understand his sentences.

            Kevin was near at his wits’ end when they finally stopped in front of an apartment door right on the street. It didn’t look any different from the several other doors they’d just passed or the several more heading down the street.

            “Jackie my boy… H-here we are. This—this—this is my apar-apart… home.” Bojack, clearly Werner’s favorite of the three, helped the nigh-incoherent man activate the door and carefully walked him inside. He had to holster his weapon to make sure his boss didn’t hit anything on the way in.

            Kevin gave the two turians a look as they took up positions at either side of the door. _That’s right, you two. I was invited. Let me in so I can put that man out of his intoxicated misery._ They exchanged a look and Tarjack flicked his head for Kevin to go in. It seems all of his enduring hard work paid off—getting the guards to allow him between Linus and them was the main obstacle. Kevin stepped inside the door, grinning, and the way shut behind them.

            Ahead, Linus was babbling on about where he was going to put all of his fancy expensive equipment as he was being laid onto his bed with help of his trusty bodyguard. Kevin wasn’t really paying much attention to what Linus was trying to say anymore—he had something else in mind to spice up the evening.

            “You… You were right, Jackie. Th-that was the best-best… I enjoyed today… Probababably too drunk to order up a pair of ashari, tho-though, eh?” He began to chuckle endlessly and Bojack stepped back from his boss, shrugging at Kevin.

            “We should let the boss be,” Bojack suggested in a moderate accent resembling the old British dialects. “He’s pretty much done.”

            Kevin nodded wearily as if tired from his excessive drinking and turned around, slowly, to let Bojack pass him. That would be his chance.          This Bojack, with his being by himself and exposed throat, would be an easy enough target, especially with how unaware he is. Quietly, Kevin started after the body guard as the mindless banter continued to fill the room behind them. Perhaps too quiet. Bojack stopped in his tracks and reached for his rifle, but too late. Kevin made good use of his time and had unsheathed his monomolecular blade. It was a beautiful piece of black alloy, shaped in a thin triangle with no cumbersome crossguards, a straight, textured grip without a bulky pommel, and sharpened right down to the very molecule. He used his left hand to cup the human’s mouth while he was still pulling the gun from its holster, tugged back to better expose the throat, and drew the fine edge effortlessly across the front.

            A red smile, it was still called even in these days, and small wonder. The blood immediately started to flow from the clean slice, and the shame vaguely resembled a second mouth with a most terrible smile. The man attempted to scream, to warn his boss or his fellow bodyguards that they had been fooled, but the only noises he managed to make were sickening gurgles. Kevin slowly  let the man fall as to not make a sound, and wiped both sides of the flat of his blade across the man’s cheek.

            He then turned towards Linus, still happily drunk and explaining in broken words how he was going to use all of his money to do the most selfish things here. It made Kevin sick. Strangely though, as he slowly approached the lying man, he pitied him. He didn’t believe in karma, but Linus just seemed to have it coming. When the cosmos and your own very existence is eager to deny you life, how can you escape such a damning fate? His hit contract almost seemed like a trifling formality against such workings of the universe.

            Kevin stood next to the bed, watching the man who by rights should have passed out by now.

            Linus glanced at Kevin, smiling and blissfully unaware of the death not fifteen feet from his own bed. “J-ackie… Where… You are a _g-good_ man. I… I… We’re friends, y-you and I. Tomorrow… We’ll f-find ourselvsh a couple of girlsh… And…” The poor fool couldn’t even finish out his sentences.

            Kevin laid a hand down across Linus’s mouth and pushed his head back into the sem-soft pillow. “Hush now, Linus. Time to sleep. You’ve had a long, long day.” Only then did Linus suspect something was wrong, but it was far too late.

            Kevin tilted his head and quickly cut a deep gash across Linus’s throat. The man’s eyes went wide and his body twitched violently unlike the guard, and he began to claw at the air, then his throat is if he could somehow stop his life’s blood from running freely. Finally he gripped the sheets in his helplessness, looking to Kevin in his betrayal while pools of red gathered under him to stain the blankets. Kevin finally lifted his hand off of the man’s face and he contemptuously wiped his blade off on the expensive suit jacket at hand.

            Blade clean and ‘Simon’ dead in a pool of his own blood, Kevin began to loot the stiff. He was short on cash, and Omega had a way of reminding you that noble behavior often led to an early grave or unending destitution. He found a pre-loaded credit chit, a card with some scribbled information on it, and an ID for one ‘Simon Kellius’. _Of course his fake ID would be the one he physically keeps with him._

            After realizing he had absolutely nothing else on him, Kevin frowned and sheathed his blade. Upon taking a closer look at the scribbled-on card, however, he found something he did _not_ expect. The scrawled information wasn’t just meaningless notes, they were a registration account and vocal confirmation passcode for a ship. A ship! What in the galaxy would possess someone to keep a physical copy of this data? _Someone that was afraid of it getting hacked out,_ he thought. _You can’t hack physical data._

            But you can steal it, and that’s exactly what Kevin meant to do. He scanned the chit to discover that it held a massive twenty thousand credits and he pocketed the thing grinning stupidly. _I just hit the jackpot today. Where’s the catch? Where’s the inevitable balance to make me regret all of this?_

            Just then he noticed that the guards outside hadn’t so much as peeked their heads in to check up on their next paycheck. Either they were busy, incredibly stupid, or they actually, honestly didn’t see him as a threat. He didn’t know which was worse.

            He pulled out a holo camera and took a good image of the dead body, then smeared the base in his blood to ensure he could call the contract fulfilled. He dropped the holo camera into a box to keep the nasty red off of him and put that away as well, working quickly in case his luck with the other bodyguards wasn’t going to last. As he made for the door, he began to well up dark energy. He wanted this exit to be nice and quiet.

            As he exited, he flicked a thumb back into the room. “Damn, I’ve never seen anyone crash so hard.” He was still using his slurred words to keep the illusion consistent—it seemed to be working. “Might not want to di-disturb him for the night… He’s so gone right now.”

            Unfortunately, Neejack got curious and poked his head into the room to ensure things were alright. Kevin half-expected this, though in truth he expected it a lot sooner. The turian turned around to look at Kevin, face ghastly from the sight in the room, and meant to yell at Kevin to alert everyone nearby and mark him for a killer. He almost got the words out. Almost.

            Kevin turned around with expectation and threw out both hands, open palms out. The dark energy he’d gathered coalesced into a long stasis field that enveloped the two guards and froze them in place. He fed a continued stream of dark energy into the field to ensure it remained in place. He wanted his exit to be nice and quiet.

            “Thank you so much for the night, gentlemen,” he said with a mocking bow. “I’ve got some other pressing matters to get to, however, and so I must leave you to your duties.” He couldn’t help but mix his last few words with growing laughter. He turned on a heel and started away with a bit of a bounce in his steps.

            The guards watched him turn away, festering with cold, silent rage.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this chapter is a bit dry, so please bear with me on it. It has been slated for revision for a very long time, but I never seem to have time to get to it.

### Chapter Two

            People always asked Kevin why he took up a job involving contracts to kill people, especially when such a job was usually done by highly trained professionals. Ironically, this question tended to be asked just prior to Kevin pulling the trigger on the inquirer. His response had always been the same, and he had repeated it enough times to rival the frequency of Omega news reports about local deaths. “ _I have a knack for it,_ ” he always said. As it turned out, that was more or less the truth. It was more than simple skill, however. Kevin has had the unique and uncontrollable ability to cause his brain to fire neural synapses at more than twice and a half the speed of normal humans for many years. He's not entirely sure when it started, but he first became aware of it as a child. Such a thing was considered trivial to many, but it's what gave him his competitive edge over the years.

            This state of hyperconcentration, which Kevin amusingly and joking called 'bullet time' in reference to ancient vid-games kids used to play at the turn of Earth's millennium, was just one of many side effects to his condition. There were several other neural events that were the result of experiments that, to his hazy recollection, happened when he was not just young, but still in the womb. He vaguely remembered being part of some crazy experiment designed to create humans who could use powerful biotics without the need for implants. “NA1” biotics, they called them. First generation natural human biotics. That was all he could ever recall, however. Grand amounts of amnesiac meds administered in his early years had conveniently barred him from discovering the origins surrounding his unique condition, along with most of the details that explained exactly how he was the way he was.

            Whatever happened, the end result changed Kevin in a number of ways. Some changes were beneficial, such as the brief moments of hyperconcentration.  During these moments, events around him seemed to slow down considerably and become abnormally clear. Doctors had told him that his nervous system, neural connections and all, were unthinkably strong for a human. This, as a result, allowed him to make serious and practical use out of the sizable eezo nodules throughout his body.

            Other changes leaned more towards the negative side, such as debilitating headaches and random spots of memory loss to varying degrees. Fortunately, the memory loss could be countered with simple supplements, but the crushing headaches were another matter. Stims, meds, chems - he’d tried it all to get the headaches to stop. They were so terribly agonizing that they stopped him in his tracks no matter how determined he was to move on. They were temporary, sure, but those few pounding minutes were the epitome of painful misery. He considered himself lucky that he hadn't experienced one while on a mission. Yet.

            As far as he was concerned, however, this abnormality within him covered the extent of his extraordinary abilities. He never had any specific or formal training in the ways of assassination, though he _did_ go through several training regimens during his time in the Alliance military where he learned to kill humans, turians, krogan and many others with the efficiency to fit any necessary mission. He had no extended network of contacts, but he had a couple individuals he could count on. True assassins regularly mocked his style and lack of informational assets, but he was still rather young by professional standards, and he generally still managed to take out the marked individuals nonetheless. He was anything _but_ professional, but getting the job done anyways was what kept getting him more jobs.

            As Kevin trudged through the leftover crowds outside of the pulsing entrance to Afterlife, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a dirtied window. He had been here in the pit of Omega for just over a week by now, waiting for Mr. Linus to show his unwittingly promised face. His short brown hair was greasy, if not wretched, and the jacket over his old alliance uniform was filthy and starting to fray. Not to mention the various stains from having to 'deal' the locals. He really did start to look like he belonged here.

            Omega was infamous for doing that to people who lingered just a bit too long. For him, however, the change was not subtle. He could feel every layer of recirculated dust and airborne grime that fell upon his form. Every cloud of filth kicked up by a group of passersby in the alleyways, he could taste. Each unkempt human, pissed off krogan, slithering batarian, sultry asari, wily salarian, and especially those vorcha – all had unique ways to assault the senses here. Heck, even the few random quarians smelled as though they'd rolled around somewhere between corpses and trash piles. Probably from all those rags they tend to don. Kevin was no longer an exception to this depressing cycle. He had begun to assault his _own_ senses. He needed to _get off of this rock_.

            Luckily, Linus had parked his vessel at one of the more expensive, closer docking bays. There were guards, but it was obvious by their mild disinterest that they were only there to keep Omega's general population from slipping by and causing trouble in Aria's docking bays. People who parked their ships here paid Aria a good sum, and she wasn't about to betray a fat wallet in that sense. Kevin merely had to flash the newly obtained ship registration and the guards simply nodded before going back to playing some form of game on a small table too alien for Kevin to recognize.

            It wasn't long at all before he was staring out a window at _his_ new ship. The vessel was a small frigate, judging by the size. The exterior design was sleek, to say the least. Very curvaceous and modern - not the usual blocky design most human civilian ships tended to favor. It blended smooth, rounded surfaces with sharp points at the edges. The front was pointed, and as it moved towards the back of the ship, it increased in width, height and depth in a subtle manner. The front tip housed a series of viewports, which gave the illusion that the ship had sleek, menacing eyes.

            The top of the ship arced ever so slightly from the front tip to the tail end in a lopsided parabola, with the highest point of the arch closer towards the front, perhaps one third the way from the tip. Barely a third of the way towards the stern, the 'neck' ended and the size of the ship tripled in width and depth, while only doubling in height below. The transition from neck to body followed the gradual curvature of the frame, and while it resembled a very wide and smoothed out Alliance interceptor without wings in some aspects, it still looked different enough to be recognizable. At the rear, two vertical foils split off in a widened V shape off of the top side and extended a tad past the rest of the tail end. There were two long, flat thrusters that ran alongside the rear half or the 'fat' part of the body angled down and away. Their positioning and downward curvature helped to solidify the sleek look. Near the back end of the thrusters, there appeared to be pivots that would allow the thrust direction to be altered slightly during flight. That sort of engineering was top tier, and relatively new. It was clear Linus spared no expense.

            Kevin caught himself admiring the exterior just a little too much. It was an attractive change from the usual, blocky design civilian ships usually ran with. While staring at it was good and all, but he wasn't going to get off of this dump until he boarded the thing. Within the minute, he had moved himself off of the alien, thug infested rock and into the decontamination-enabled airlock aboard the wonderfully clean, shining frigate.

            After a rather quick and painless d-con session, he took his first steps into the ship. The interior was a spectacle in and of itself – beautifully modern and comfortable, yet functional. The level of technology and aesthetic styles aboard the ship were fresh – it must have been recently refitted or built. Judging by the lack of any real wear and tear, it was more likely the latter. To his immediate left was the bridge, which was unsurprisingly small to the point of being cramped. There were three seats in a forward pointed triangle for a helmsman and two co-pilots and the entire room was completely aglow with consoles, monitors, systems checks, and other lights with purposes unidentifiable due to his limited knowledge of frigates. The systems appeared to be in standby mode, but that didn't prevent the myriad of consoles from staying lit up and ready for input and observation.

            To his right was the neck of the ship, a five-or-so meter hallway with a slightly raised, grated metal floor. Each side of this hallway was lined with more lights of multiple natures, and a pair of juxtaposed consoles for maintaining critical systems and other internally associated things. Beyond the short downward ramp at the end of the hall, there was a large room that looked to be some form of conference, or briefing room. The defining item there was a large elliptical table in the middle of the open space surrounded by pivoting chairs that were bolted to the floor. The walkway split after the downward ramp and traced the outer wall of the room around the table and chairs. The paths terminated in the back corners of the room, each with a door to head to the rest of the deck beyond the dividing wall.

            Kevin turned right first and headed into the briefing area, wanting a bit more space before he would take care of the first order of business. According to the registration he had acquired from Linus, the ship's name was the _Kellius_. Its external design seemed vaguely familiar to him, to the point that it placed a quiet nagging thought in the back of his head, just begging for someone to ask that one question. _Why was it familiar?_ Something he read about or saw in the past. . . Kevin tapped his head repeatedly in a vain attempt to knock some of those memories loose, but to no avail. _Maybe it'll come to me later_ , he resolved. Regardless, the Kellius was in his possession now, all that was left to make that official was to get the internal systems to recognize his authority. Normally, this would be a problem, as the ship's systems wouldn't recognize a stranger's voice print for access. The systems have to be modified, and that wasn't exactly a task people had much interest in dealing with.

            But Kevin had people. Just not a _lot_ of people.

            Kevin was by no means skilled at tech. He openly knew and recognized this weakness, but never really had the time to rectify the problem. Luckily, he learned an interesting trick when it came to ship registrations maintained by a VI system, which the Kellius no doubt had. It allowed him to change the ownership of the registration over to himself _internally_ , while outside the ship, everyone else would still recognize the vessel as Linus Werner's flagship. He would get full administrative access to all systems, and no one would have an ounce of suspicion that anything had changed unless they boarded the ship themselves.

            Digitally, whenever the owner of the ship contacted an external system for any reason, a name is never used. Instead, the one making the contact is the 'Owner of <insert ship name here>', so when making deliveries to the Kellius or requesting a dock, the digital sendout is 'The Owner of the Kellius', and the other end automatically checks the closest iteration of the Galactic Registrations Database server, or 'GRDserv' for who the actual owner is according to the last 'real' registration. The GRDserv systems would then automatically return the registered owner, Linus Werner, which the person doing the inquiry would then see.

            Kevin didn't learn this himself, of course. He knew a decent amount about current technology, but he wasn't an engineer by any means and working with it wasn't his forte. An old salarian friend of his on the Citadel, Tarsil Dolannus, had a lot of contacts. One of these said contacts revealed this method of cracking the VI registration to Tarsil after they had worked together on some clandestine project. Kevin didn't care for the details of said project, but Tarsil was more than happy to pass on such a useful and rare technique to a close friend of his. It was still new enough in the wild that no serious attempts to close this exploit had been made yet.

            There were only a couple pieces of crucial information one would need to complete this task. Knowledge of the process, knowledge of what systems to hack, and most importantly, the registered owner's failsafe passcode. A series of spoken alphanumeric and numeric characters that, technically, should only be known by the owner. In the event that a normal voice print or other form of interactive login failed, the passcode would ensure the VI that the person requesting access is truly the owner, immediately granting the speaker temporary owner rights and root access. It was temporary in that the moment the authenticated individual stepped off of the ship, the process reset. If the usual login failed again, the passcode would have to be used once more. Fortunately, Kevin had a hard copy of Mr. Werner's passcode chicken scratched onto the back of his registration. Apparently, in all the years since computers were first invented back on earth and cyber security was on the rise, some terrible habits never died.

            Kevin walked over to the edge of the briefing table and leaned back against it. He braced himself for the inevitable onslaught of VI interaction this process was about to toss his way. He hated dealing with Vis. “This is Linus Werner. Execute the registration transfer program.” The onboard system responded in a harsh and well practiced digital female tone.

            “TERRA AND VI ONLINE. ALERT: VOICE PRINT UNRECOGNIZED. PLEASE TRY AGAIN OR INITIATE USING THE SECURITY PASSPHRASE.”

            “This is Linus Werner,” he said once again, clearing his throat. “Passphrase twenty-two alpha zeta thirty-four. . . credit-symbol credit-symbol?” Can that really even be part of a passcode? Good Lord.

            “PASSPHRASE ACCEPTED – REGISTRATION PROTOCOLS INITIATED. PLEASE ENTER A NAME AND PARAMETER FOR TRANSFERENCE.”

            “Kevin Folner. Transference parameter is. . . Business exchange.” _Yah, that'll do fine,_ he mused to himself.

            “WARNING: CURRENT OWNER “LINUS WERNER” WILL LOSE ROOT AUTHENTICATION PRIVELEGES AND ALL RIGHTS OF OWNERSHIP. WILL YOU CONTINUE?”

            “Continue. Blasted machine.”

            “ACCEPTED. REGISTRATION OF THIS VESSEL HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY TRANSFERRED FROM USER “LINUS WERNER” TO USER “KEVIN FOLNER” UNDER BUSINESS EXCHANGE NEGOTIATION. WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEND THIS CHANGE NOW?”

            This is where part two of the registration hack process came. Since the passcode was used, the VI had given full administrative access to Kevin, which gave him the choice of sending the change of registration to the servers now or later – a matter of two Galactic Standard days.

            “Uh, no. Don't. In fact, store this data in the encrypted database.”

            “UNABLE TO GRANT REQUEST – THIS INFORMATION IS REQUIRED TO BE SENT TO THE GALACTIC REGISTRATIONW DATABASE EITHER NOW OR--”

            “Ahh, shut up. I'll send it later.”

            “ACCEPTED. WELCOME ABOARD, KEVIN FOLNER.”

            “Man, I hate VIs.”

            Suddenly, the VI's vocal profile changed. It wasn't as obvious as a VI anymore. The female tone was now relaxed and alluring. In all reality, that didn't surprise him much, given Linus' apparent nature. “Greetings, Kevin Folner. Do you have any questions about this ship or its systems?”

            Kevin raised a brow at this change, finding communication with the disembodied voice a bit more tolerable. It was still a VI, though. “Yes. Why did you say 'Terra _and_ VI online' when I first requested program execution? Are there two different systems handling requests?”

            The response, though relaxed, was still obviously a VI by choice of words and formality of the spoken language. “You are partly correct. There are indeed two systems in place – a standard VI program engine and the 'Terra' firmware platform.”

            Kevin folded his arms, staring at the ceiling for lack of a better direction to gaze. “What's this Terra firmware, and why is it installed?” This was the first of many basic questions to learn the limits of the obviously customized system.

            “The T.E.R.A., or 'Technologically Enhanced and Revised Assistant” hardware and software combination is installed to assist an undersized crew successfully pilot the Kellius. Additionally, the T.E.R.A. firmware handles data fetching requests and maintains the Kellius' critical systems to free up the Virtual Intelligence shell for more personalized use. For simplicity's sake, the T.E.R.A. firmware and Virtual Intelligence engine has since been universally dubbed 'Terra' by the previous owner, and has been virtualized as a single software entity.”

            “Hold up. Are you rudimentary AI with control of the ship?” It was more a reassurance question than an actual query.

            “That is incorrect. The T.E.R.A. system in place is only allowed basic functionality to advanced systems such as navigation and kinetic barrier functions to assist undersized crews. Specifically, it has been programmed without heuristics and auto-optimization for security purposes.”

            “Explain basic functionality.” 'Basic' was accompanied by the applicable curling of index and middle fingers on both hands.

            “Example: Mapping Faster Than Light travel has been super-simplified when under the guidance of Terra. In such a situation as when a pilot is absent, Terra can be set to navigate to any charted world. Terra would then map the navigation routes according to existing trade route data. Counter to this, Terra _cannot_ be used to fly emergency evasive maneuvers or explore uncharted systems.”

            “But what happens if you get a virus, exploit, or other malicious program? How well is the Terra system secured?”

            “Terra has numerous cyber security suites included, such as programs allowing for the creation and deletion of additional firewalls as needed, perpetually active scanning services, monitoring of communication traffic for potentially hazardous bit additions, and regularly updated mainstream anti-virus algorithms. In the event that a detected virus cannot be isolated or purged, an automatic run-time physically separates the Terra firmware from the ship's internal systems. In such an event as this, a full crew will be required in order to pilot the ship and maintain all systems. In addition, Terra will not be able to automatically fetch any data not currently residing on the local database.”

            “That'll be all for now.” A short chime sounded, acknowledging his request. As acceptable as the VIs new voice was, the amount of information it spewed upon request was nothing short of nauseatingly typical.

            Kevin decided to forgo an immediate tour of the ship in favor of getting the heck away from Omega, and he headed straight for the bridge. The Kellius looked as though it was meant to be handled by a full complement of nine or ten crew members, but could be piloted entirely by one person thanks to Terra. Interesting. And definitely convenient, seeing as how he was the only crew member aboard. At least, he was supposed to be. His gut always told him 'better safe than sorry', so he had to make sure.

            “Terra, is there anyone else aboard the ship?”

            “No other note-worthy life forms have been detected aboard.”

            “Good. . .”

            Satisfied, Kevin decided that he needed a destination before he could really shove off from the space station. At the very least, he could hit up the mass relay and get away from here. In fact, he decided to plot a course for Illium and get compensation for his most recent contract. Kevin had a priority list though, and he wasn't about to skip that just because he had grown sick of Omega. Since he decided against taking a personal tour of the ship, he figured a quick overview of the Kellius's systems and features was in order. Kevin slipped on a Haptic Adaptive Interface glove so that he could interact with the holographic screens, and within a few taps, a detailed list of the systems and features appeared before him.

            The first thing Kevin noticed was the stark lack of weapons. The only one was a spine-mounted 'Main Cannon', the mass effect-accelerated gun that ran under the entire nose of the ship. It had decent punch, but was very difficult to get a firing solution for, since you had to aim the ship itself rather than just the cannon. It struck him as odd that a civilian vessel, even one as newly built as this, had a spine-mounted mass accelerator, but lacked any typical frigate weaponry. It was plumb backwards.

            _That's insane,_ he thought to himself. _Why would anyone build a new ship with this much tech in it, even a civvie ship, without additional weapons?_ It was then that he noticed that despite the fact that no other weapons existed, the systems and hardpoints to integrate more weapons onto the Kellius did. There were almost enough to match a military-class frigate of the same size. _I smell a budget cut._ Most, if not all, of the systems you'd expect on a civilian vessel were present and active. From life support and a VI core, to navigational mapping, thrust control, and a curiously robust suite of communication protocols. Kinetic barrier systems were de facto on all vessels by now, at least as far as he knew. There was also a vague mention of heat sinks and hull refrigeration systems, but Kevin had no idea what they'd be for, and subsequently didn't have any particular interest in them.

            The one thing about this entire ship that stood out the most, even more than the lack of weapons, was the mass effect drive core. It wasn't just some simple civilian-grade drive core. No. It was, from what he could tell, a scaled down version of the Tantalus drive core which was so successfully tested aboard some alliance prototype vessel within the last couple years. He could almost remember the name. Almost. The specifications of the drive denoted the fact that while it was slightly scaled down – sizing in at only two thirds the size of the prototype – the mass effect field generated had not been reduced and the core was no longer oriented to be perpendicular to the ship's spine. Instead, the entire drive core was turned so that the fore-most part was angled upward about forty-five degrees. It seems even that glorious technological wonder still was subject to improvements. This solidified a growing curiosity in Kevin. The ship was clearly civilian, but it had things not available to civilian vessel manufacturers. This required some research, which he figured he would conduct later.

            The next thing he brought up was a transparent, three dimensional map of the Kellius. He needed to see the layout of the ship if he wanted to utilize it at all.

            There were three decks on this ship. The first deck housed, from bow to stern, the bridge, briefing room, deck two access (which looked like a stairwell), medical bay, unusually large mess hall for a frigate, another stairwell to deck two, a square room labeled as 'entertainment', and finally, the master quarters. This 'master quarters' room, located at the aft-most part of the first deck, was easily the largest open spaced room in the entire ship, next to the cargo hold and loading dock.

            On deck two there was, again from bow to aft, deck three access (which was starboard as opposed to the port-side deck one to two stairwell), crew quarters, Life support and VI core room, port and starboard observation decks, deck one access stairwell, and the large engineering room. It was large enough that it took up space on both deck two _and_ deck three with entrances on both decks.

            The lowest deck on the Kellius appeared to be reserved completely for cargo and waste processing. A large door at the front of the cargo room was also the loading ramp, as it would open outward to allow loading of cargo if it landed. With that, Kevin's brief survey of the Kellius was finished. He closed the map and system queries before bringing up the navigational map. He needed a destination, only now remembering that he left two overpaid bodyguards alive. He didn't want them showing up for a surprise exit.

            “Alright, Kellius. Let's go get us some creds. Terra, begin the release process and fire up the thrusters.” An acknowledgment from Terra followed as he set a course for Illium through the local mass relay.

            Only moments later, he was en route to the asari world bordering the Terminus Systems. In the meantime, Kevin got up from his chair and began making his way to the back of the ship. He wanted to investigate why the master quarters were so large, and take that industrial strength shower he'd been craving while he was at it. As he passed through the briefing room, he noticed a small holo projector in the center of the table, probably for presentations and communications. _Fancy_. The doors between this room and the next appeared automatic, not having any visible access panels on them. It also seemed like they came with emergency seals in case they needed to cut the bridge and briefing room off from the rest of the ship. Interesting.

            When Kevin stepped through the port-side door, he noticed that the two hallways merged back together at the center of the ship and continued aft. On his right, just beyond the merge, he spotted the stairwell to deck two with a luminescent sign above it labeling this floor as deck one. Next to the stairwell door, there was a small bulleted list engraved in a metal plate on the wall. It read “VI Core/Life Support Systems, Crew Quarters, Engineering, and Cargo”.

            From there, the hallway angled right and straightened back out alongside the port side of the ship. A window on the angled portion of the wall to his left allowed view into the medical bay beyond. It was fairly large for a frigate of this size and it seemed well equipped and stocked – at least well enough to sustain someone in moderately critical condition until they got to a real medical facility. Further down the hallway was the door into said med bay, and next to that was a door into the mess hall. Kevin halted his trek for a moment so he could take a peek into the mess, and when he activated the bright door panel, it split up into four parts and separated into the walls. He jutted his head inside to see four long tables each surrounded by a collection of pricey low-back chairs, and a sectioned off kitchen towards the back. The lights were dim, as no one was using the room, but he could also plainly see a small bar on the backside against the wall. He wasn't a drinker, but that was still awesome.

            A small ways after the mess hall, the hallway turned left at a ninety degree angle and ran all the way to the starboard side. There were two doors on the aft side of this portion of the hall. The one closest to him was the 'Entertainment' room. He'd check that out some other time. Further down towards the far side was a door for the master quarters. Down at the very end in the starboard wall was the other stairwell heading down to the lower deck.

            At this point, Kevin was already impatiently speed-walking to reach the master quarters, hardly even waiting for it to split open before stepping into a short hallway which ran between the entertainment room and the starboard hull before coming to a second door at the far end. He wondered if whether or not this double-door setup was a form of security, or just a necessity to reach the room beyond. The more he thought about it though, the more moot it seemed, so he quickly moved through the hall and second door without coming to any deductions.

            The area beyond the final door opened up into a large, half-circle-shaped split level room, and Kevin smiled to himself as he began to take note of all of the features of this exquisite space. The entire back wall was curved to match the rounded stern of the ship, and there were two big, rounded-corner rectangle viewports on either side of the room and one in the ceiling over the king size bed at the far back. Luckily, he could see armored shutters between the inner and outer hulls that looked like they would fold out and lock over the viewports if the ship ever came under attack. The split-level difference in floor height between the fore and aft halves of the room was only about waist high, with the lower half fore and the higher half aft. There were two short sets of stairs, both of which placed only a third of the way across the room from their respective side's wall.

            Nestled comfortably between the two stairs on the lower half was a big, expensive-looking couch facing the fore wall, which also just happened to sport a really big vid screen. On the starboard side of the upper section was the door to the bathroom, though the glass-enclosed stand-in shower was external to this and quite visible to the rest of the room. Interestingly, it appeared one could enter or exit from either the room or the bathroom. Opposite this on the port wall was a large sliding door for a small walk-in closet. Finally, there were a number of furnishings around the bed, and they consisted of a round, anchored table complete with four modern-style chairs, and a decently sized desk with a rolling chair and a built-in terminal on its surface on the other side of the bed.

            Kevin nodded to himself. He could get used to this kind of luxury. It was alright to spoil oneself once in a while, right? While on the thought of spoiling, he caught a whiff of himself just then and retched involuntarily. He decided that now was a _really_ good time to investigate that shower setup, and he made his way to the back of the room so that he could place the sealed box containing proof of assassination and his sheathed knife on the desk beside the bed. He removed the foul rags, faded jacket, and casual uniform from his person and tossed them aside as he anxiously stepped into the shower and turned it on.

            He let out an exasperated sigh as the hot beads of water fell over him. He needed this to an absurd degree. It would be some time before he would reach Illium, and he most certainly planned on using some of that time to relax. He had to calm his nerves before reaching the asari-controlled world, as it wasn't always a friendly place. He had to have a clear head so that he could get in, get his due payment, and get out. The last thing he needed during his time there was to come across a band of the dominant gang, Eclipse. They, like the other major gangs in the galaxy – the Blue Suns and the Blood Pack – had a price set on his head, and they'd most certainly recognize him.

            Kevin mulled over these potential threats as he showered, somewhat robbing himself of the relaxation he was searching for. Though there was no hurry in his progress, he still finished quickly. Recent years had taught him the harsh lesson of lingering too long in one place, and even though he knew he was safe here, his mind was automatic in keeping things brief.

            The towel he grabbed from a nearby rack inside the bathroom to dry himself with was the of the softest he had ever felt, causing him to delay just a few more minutes before he finished. Once done, he moved to the closet to figure out what these rich types kept around for clothes. At first, all he noticed were business suits and other expected formal wear, but there were also a couple officer's uniforms in there for some reason. At the far end was a pair of human-form combat undersuits, which struck Kevin as just as strange as the officer uniforms. It was understandable if they were for the bodyguards, but why where they in here? Where were the turian suits? An unpleasant thought about the rich man and the male bodyguard in the same room crossed his mind and he silently gagged, quickly removing it from his thoughts.

            The colors did appeal to him though, and there were no emblems or insignias that would project a false alignment to some organization. Black, white, and gray mixed with some light-gold colored lines and trim details. The pants were cargo-type, having large pockets on the legs for carrying thermal clips and other things. There was also a pair of space-ready hardsuits on the opposite end from the undersuits. One was well armored, but looked like it weighed as much as an elcor. The other was less armored, but seemed more flexible and mobile. Above the heavier one hung a breather helmet that looked as though it could be used interchangeably on either hardsuit. He grabbed a combat undersuit and put it on, surprised at how well it fit. The pants needed a belt, but nothing major.

            After dressing himself, Kevin climbed onto the bed and lay down diagonally across it, just staring out the ceiling observation window at the stars, which were intermittently obscured by waves of visible blueshifted energy rushing by. It suddenly struck him, then, just how long it had been since he had gotten some real sleep, and his eyes shut involuntarily. The ship was unbelievably quiet. Omega was never quiet. He always enjoyed silence. It was so comforting. . .


	4. Chapter Three

### Chapter Three

            “Be advised: We will be approaching Illium space in a matter of ten minutes.”

            Kevin woke up with a slight jump at hearing Terra's automated response. The first thing he noticed before even opening his eyes was the blazing and crippling headache he had. He rolled over and fell off of the bed, smacking the cold metal floor with an audible thud just after Terra had finished.

            “Augh! Yeah, thanks Terra. Shut up! Or down!” It probably wasn't a command, but he had to try. Anything to keep it from talking again.

            His head pounded. It wasn't the same as a migraine—light and sound didn't amplify the headache in the same ways. Nevertheless, it was so debilitating that he could do nothing but hold his head for a few minutes, if anything at all. He'd always wondered if this was what an L2 biotic felt when they flared. The thought was lost within seconds of its creation, and he shut his eyes tight and groaned while continuing to cradle his head in some vain attempt to dampen the agony. Four everlasting and torturing minutes passed before the pain finally began to subside. That's how it usually happened. Four to five minutes of nothing but immobilizing pain, and then it resided enough for him to be able to function again. Even after that, the pain typically took hours to disappear completely. During that time things still seemed warped for as long as the pain existed, just not as painful as the initial five minutes.

            He stood up and rubbed his temples out of habit. It never actually helped, but then again it was a psychological comfort. His thoughts now turned to the fact that this had been happening more frequently as of late. Back when he was a late teenager, the spikes only came once or twice a year. More recently it seemed to come around several times a year, sometimes multiple times a month. Nothing ever curbed the intensity, either. Meds, stims, sedatives… None of it worked.

            Hazily, he moved away from the bed and grabbed the sealed cube and his effects from off of the desk. He threw the evidence into one of the large leg-side pockets and clipped it shut. After rubbing his face down and letting out a deep sigh, he grabbed a pistol and its holster that he spotted in the closet earlier and attached it to his belt. He paused as he took a moment to look at the pistol he grabbed. It wasn't any normal stock grade pistol, it was a pistol made by Kassa Fabrication, known for having top of the line products. Certainly not civilian's first choice, but a rich man would probably go for whatever looked the most expensive.

            This was particularly good news to Kevin. A superior quality pistol like this meant he could modify it significantly since the materials were of a higher grade. There was a good chance he'd find something in one of the many shops on Illium.

            He made his way to the cockpit just in time to begin calling for a place to dock. He searched about the terminal interfaces and found the communications screen, and he switched it to the default local docking channel and immediately sent his request.

            “This is the Kellius, requesting permission to dock,” Kevin noted formally as he sat back and rubbed his eyes a bit before an asari responded.

            “Welcome to Illium, Kellius. You are cleared for docking in bay north one twenty-five.”

            “Received, proceeding to dock South one twenty-five. Kellius out.” _South one twenty-five?_ _Crap, that's a small dock for a ship this size_ , he thought. He knew the docks here on Illium well enough to know which designations had small docks, and northern ones were typically for smaller craft. It was going to be a tight fit, especially since his ability to pilot a frigate at all was… less than perfect. At the very least, he hoped it wasn't too crowded down there today.

            He directed the Kellius through the docking lanes, heading towards the building where his assigned dock resided. Skyscrapers of impressive height sped by the sides of his ship, practically designed to keep anything larger than a car from maneuvering easily—like huge speed bumps. Glossy exteriors reflected the serrated, yet serene horizon. _It's too bad it's still late afternoon,_ Kevin mused. _The scene is exponentially more breathtaking at sunset._

            A few tight turns mixed with some shaky adjustments and the dock appeared around a last corner. The rounded bubble-like roof of the building housing the hangar unpleasantly reflected the hot Tasale sun right into his eyes for a brief moment making him squint instinctively. That irritation was quickly overtaken when he quickly had to focus on docking the ship. As expected, this dock wasn't as big as most others, and there was one other ship in the hangar. It could have been worse, but it would still be a tight fit. Yikes. Kevin ground his teeth together after a nasty close call; he almost knocked his port thruster against the outside corner. Luckily, the only casualties were a stack of large metal shipping crates. He should have guessed docking a ship this size would be harder than the shuttles and fighter-sized ships he was used to. He could fly something bigger well enough in open space, but he was certainly no designated pilot.

            Finally docked, he proceeded through the airlock and out into the Illium atmosphere. The wall of hot and slightly more humid air starkly contrasting the pristine controlled environment of the Kellius hit Kevin square in the face. The change wasn't as extreme as it seemed, but it had been a while since he was last on an actual planet. He paused on the dock and took in a large sniff of air, distinctly recalling the carefully concocted scent of clean business and shady dealings like a pricey, mixed drink personally put together by a bartender at high class clubs and lounges. Shaken and on the rocks. It was something one tended not to forget, as just knowing this air could save a guy a lot of trouble down the road. Stepping away from his ship, Kevin peered at a holographic Nos Astra city map; he was rather unfamiliar with where in the city this dock landed him, and he needed some reference.

            _I'm going to have to call a cab_ , he grumbled under his breath. _My contact isn't anywhere near this place_. _Just my luck_. This hangar was in the southern portion of the south district of Nos Astra—one of five districts throughout the entire city. Nos Astra was easily one of the largest and most popular cities on Illium, and it showed. South district was known for borderline illegal dealings even here on Illium where trade restrictions were few. As a result, the police force presence here was visibly thicker. Fortunately, he had just 'inherited' several thousand credits courtesy of Mr. Werner, so getting around the city wasn’t going to be an issue.

            Kevin stepped outside of the hangar and onto a large platform attached to the side of the building. On the far end of the platform was a console jutting off to the side housing the cab calling terminal. As he approached it, he saw the usual two options on the screen; one for automatic, unmanned transports, and one for cabs piloted by employed workers. Kevin selected the manned cab and looked upward towards the travel lanes to see if he could spot it before it approached.

            There were several reasons why manned transports were more popular than automated ones. The first reason was that manned skycars, while bound by certain laws and regulations for piloting a vehicle, generally were far more flexible with flight paths. Automated transports had preprogrammed routes using the travel lanes outlined by the city, and were very formal and centered. Drivers could cut corners, take shortcuts and use other means to make a faster drive, not to mention improvise if something went wrong. Another main reason for the popularity of manned over unmanned was that automated cabs deducted credits from your chit as you rode. It wasn't unheard of for the toll system to be modified to provide certain individuals or groups with a few extra overcharged and stolen credits without the host company becoming aware until several customers had been victimized. In manned cabs, the driver was responsible for charging the customer, whether the deduction was automatic or not. Any illicit change in the amount of credits received from passengers was illegal and meant a lot more trouble than losing a cab job.

            While it wasn't right away, a cab did break off of the travel lane within the minute and landed next to Kevin. The classic skycar, which had the door and windshield hinged at the back, opened up, revealing an asari that looked up at him. He gave the driver an analyzing glance, along with the rest of the cab. Noticing nothing strange or out of place, he stepped in and sat in the back.

            “To the eastern district trade range, please,” he politely requested.

            “Certainly, sir!” The driver smiled as she shut the doors and the abhorrent whine of the engines increased in volume as they took off.

            As Kevin settled into the comfortable back seat of the cab, he thought about why he made himself get into the frequent habit of checking drivers he rode with. Casually staring out the side window, a memory began to play back in his head in his boredom…

 

            _It was the fifth time he had been to Illium. He was pursuing his fifteenth contract in a span of a month on Illium, a notably higher number of hits than most places for such a short time – even Omega. Most were from various random contractors, and he believed only two of all fifteen contracts came from the same source. The thing was, all of these contracts were to take out certain members of a huge gang, or 'Protection Service Group', the Eclipse. The Eclipse were particularly strong here on Illium, likely due to the fact that this planet bordered the Terminus Systems, and they tended to have a lot of asari in their ranks. Apparently they had been getting on a lot of people's nerves lately._

_Kevin knew that such a high concentration of hits on one organization would mean trouble for him. It was only a matter of time before the organization picked up on it and would begin to target him specifically, but he had no way of knowing how soon it would show until the first shot at his person. He had already decided that his current target would be the last before he would have to leave Illium for a while to let the heat subside. He had gotten an early lead on his last target, and he wasted no time in moving. Firstly, he needed to relocate. The marked individual wasn't in that district, so he hailed a cab._

_The cab showed up rather quickly, even by Illium standards. The side doors opened with a resounding click and a short, well maintained hum. Inside, a stunningly beautiful asari with dark and ominous eyes asked him where he was off to._

_“I'm heading towards the Teiser district of Nos Tarlas. Going that way?” Kevin casually asked the blue driver._

_“Certainly,” she happily replied with a smile and a nod towards the back seat. Without hesitation, he sat down quietly and the doors shut. A glance of something slightly out of place caused Kevin to pause as he pondered what it was he saw but he quickly dismissed it as nerves. He needed to keep suspicion down. Chances were that Eclipse was already keeping an eye out for him. The liftoff was quiet and smooth._

_“So what are you heading over to Teiser for, if you don't mind my asking?” the asari asked. It was common for cab operators to ask generic questions during the ride._

_“Financial business,” was his vague answer._

_“Is that all?” It at least sounded like a genuine inquiry._

_“Yes.”_

_“Oh…” Disappointed at the blatant lack of conversation, she focused on her direction._

_“Sorry. I just make it a point not to talk about my financial business. People on Illium have a tendency to… Inquire into places they have no business snooping about, as I'm sure you know.”_

_“Point taken, sir. I didn't mean to pry.” Just like that, the conversation was over._

_A few minutes later, they landed. Kevin looked about, knowing that they shouldn't have. The trip should have been at least four point six five minutes longer. Red flags went up all over the place in his mind and his eyes reflexively sharpened. The passenger seat in front of him backed up, pinning him and keeping him from quickly moving. The asari then quickly got out of the cab, even so fast as to leave the starter card on the dashboard. The doors shut behind her, faster than automated motors were designed to. Kevin watched her casually walk away from the vehicle, as if she achieved victory. That's when he noticed it. Dangling off of the starter card was a small insignia. A metallic circle, green with a large gold E imprinted on it, jagged and sharp. The Eclipse emblem. He shook his head, feeling ridiculously stupid, but he wasn't about to let them just off him. He tried to open the door, but it wouldn't open from the inside. This wasn't just any old cab; it was a modified ambush device._

_He then noticed a salarian and another asari come walking out from a nearby building. The new asari had what looked to be an Armax Arsenal missile launcher resting active on her shoulder. Bad news, but again, Kevin wasn't about to just let them take him out. He took a brief moment to concentrate, gathering dark energy and activating the element zero nodules in his body. A few seconds and a limited hand-thrust later, a concentrated a biotic force was released from his left hand into the side of the car, punching open a large, gaping hole. That got their attention real fast, and he could hear the distant beeps of a missile launcher locking a target._

_Kevin's vision focused entirely on that missile tip just as it began to leave the launcher. Things seemed to slow down as the tension built, and right away he knew what to do. Having never ceased gathering dark energy to himself, he focused what he gathered into the tips of his right hand fingers and let forth another concentrated biotic throw, this time using a special curving technique he learned years ago during a specialized military biotic training regimen. The force of his throw was aimed at the forward tip of the missile, but angled upwards so it would hit it up from below rather than dead-on._

_Halfway to its destination, the lethal missile was smacked upward without detonating at a ninety degree angle and its direction changed enough for the automatic homing systems to take over to attempt to fix the trajectory. As it attempted to correct the path between itself and its target, the missile curled backwards and performed a backwards flip to resume its horizontal course. Unfortunately for the launcher-wielding asari and salarian, the missile did not have enough height to complete the maneuver and landed smack dab between the two, exploding on impact. Those two Eclipse members were thrown in opposite directions and were done on the spot—their kinetic barriers couldn't handle a point-blank explosion._

_The cab driver, however, lived. She was thrown from the explosion, landing about two to three meters from where she previously stood. Kevin stepped out of the cab, straightened his clothes, and casually walked over to her. A bleeding head turned to face him, and her reeling eyes tried to come together to focus on the blurry image of the human she had just tried set up. She gasped, rolling onto her back so that she could try and scoot away in vain—her limbs were beyond numb. This amused Kevin, for some reason. Watching an asari helplessly try to crawl away from a doom she brought upon herself almost seemed ironic._

_Kevin simply sat down next to her and waved an index finger side to side right in front of her face. “Such a tactic is insulting to me. Did you take me for some kind of fool?” Dramatic language always did make things more interesting for him._

_She shook her head, of course. She looked so pitiful – all banged up and helpless on the ground. The human then revealed not a pistol, but an ornate black dagger and twirled it between his fingers a few times. There wasn't even any need for a pistol here. He pressed the broad side down on the lower portion of her calf and pulled it upwards along her leg, pressing down on the tip just enough to heavily fray or outright cut the tight black clothes she had on without doing much more than scratch the flesh underneath. It wasn't quite enough to expose her body, but that's not what he was going for. It was little more than a scare tactic._

_She whimpered as the knife scraped about halfway up her hip and Kevin paused, staring her in the eyes. She had tears now, whether from fear or from the pain of her injuries, he could not tell. He knew she was incapable of biotics at this point. She had to be able to move to perform those._

_She muttered two words: “I-I'm sorry...”_

_Kevin's response was simple, “Tell that to your two friends there._ You _brought_ me _to them.”_

_He cracked a brief smile, mostly at the irony of the statement. Then he let the blade flow forth and embed itself into her neck at an upward angle. Her body convulsed for a split second before going limp and-_

 

“We have arrived, sir,” the driver announced, breaking his concentration.

            He looked up from his daze to see that they had indeed arrived at the eastern district. He waved his inherited credit chit in front of the deduction device to pay his fee and got up out of the vehicle.

            “Thank you, sir! Have a pleasant day.” She gave him another super-sized smile, one almost too cheery for a cab driver. She must have been new.

            “Uh, thanks. You too.” Good lord she sounded like a VI, what with being all proper and such. Nevertheless, she offered him one more smile before closing the doors and taking off.

            The landing point was a sort of central hub-like bridge where the walkways of five or six different nearby skyscrapers in the center. There wasn't much for support architecture except for several beams that ran the hypotenuse from each building to their respective side of the bridge. The view, though… It was fantastic. The surrounding skyscrapers weren't exactly close enough to block _all_ the view, and even looking down over the edge was a sight to behold.

            Kevin knew he was here on a mission, however, and couldn't dwell long. Eclipse knew who he was, and they'd try anything to get to him again after all the trouble he has since caused them. He didn't think they'd have trouble remembering him, especially with all the salarians and asari in their ranks. He drew in a deep breath, turned to his left and started making his way into the nearest skyscraper, which had a roof that looked as though it had been shaven off at a downward angle and fixed with glass to close the gap. His contact, a volus named Verat Klarr, should be a couple floors down 'visiting' a few of the sales kiosks.

            That money-grubbing agent better have his money. Kevin was in no mood to chase his creds today. Verat wasn't exactly known for being there when you were expecting him, and tended to keep your due credits when you 'failed to show for the meeting.' Luckily for Kevin, the stairs down were right inside the doors. No dealing with 'high class drunks' this time. That last time with the asari commando and the turian commander on shore leave… Ridiculous. He didn't even know turians could bend that way, or that asari used biotics for… such exotic purposes. Kevin shook his head to focus on where he was going and within a couple minutes he had reached the lower trade range of the eastern district on the fringes of Nos Astra.

            He actually had to search, which was unusual for him in the sense that he could normally pick a memorized target out of a crowd pretty well. There seemed to be more volus here than he recalled from his last visit, which didn’t help. Shops here in the trade range generally sported a wide collection, including _normally_ illicit weapons kiosks, 'protection services' shops, an indentured service store, and gambling of a few sorts. Spectacularly colorful lighting on various areas on the walls, floors, ceilings, and huge signs dazzled newcomers and lit up the place in a way that made some of the Citadel's wards look like a colorless prison. It was much more crowded than the comparatively conservative look of the center district, where a lot of the white collar business tended to sit. The noise pollution, at best, was remarkably higher than up on the hub bridge, adding to the calm chaos. That was probably due to the fact that this area of the range was inside the skyscraper and had less open space. These lower levels had to be closed up in order to keep climate control working at optimum levels against the unbearably hot surface of the planet.

            As Kevin pushed his way through crowds, he made mental notes of the people he passed by. Several volus, a numerous turians, an uncountable number of asari, and even a couple hanar all moved with staggered motion through the wide halls of the trade range. Unfortunately, none of these matched his contact. Did the little bugger make off with his creds? That irritating thought never left his mind. The guy that hired Kevin is going to be pissed when he finds out that he's going to charge double for this insult if such was the case. Crap rolls downhill, so maybe his contact was smart enough to think twice about it.

            He decided to give the crook a minute and leaned onto a kiosk as if browsing the store. Coincidentally, it just happened to be a weapons dealer, too. He spotted a 'prototype' accelerator pistol mod that this dealer likely wasn't allowed to sell due to Illium’s rather tight licensing on that type of mod. The sales clerk was, of course, a volus, so Kevin gambled on the fact that he might not have any detailed knowledge of the mod. The price reflected this notion, putting its value around the same worth as a typical pulsar or kinetic dampener mod. Kevin decided to grab it, easily shelling out the seven hundred credits for the modification. How this one slipped by the trade authorities he’ll never know, but he couldn’t exactly complain about the deal it brought him. Deciding that he might as well splurge a tad, he also bought a high powered phasic mod for about one thousand to accompany it.

            As he browsed, he felt various figures pushing past him. Some were in a hurry and some were just strolling by as they attempted to navigate the compacted crowd. It was only about a minute or so after he had made his purchase that an asari with deep blue stripes speckling her face and head-ridges approached him from behind through the crowd. She wore a green and white dress, rather typical casual wear for maiden-stage asari on this planet. He didn't look directly towards her, so he didn't think she knew he was watching. She didn't appear to have any weapons, but a self-entitled assassin quickly learns not to underestimate an unarmed asari—especially when she happens to be an undercover commando.

            She moved closer, presumably to get close enough so that she would not have to shout over the noise. It seemed his intuition proved correct. She was searching exclusively for him.

            “Excuse me, but do you by any chance go by the name Folner?”

            Red flag. An unknown person knew his name in the area of a contact he was to meet. He had naturally picked up a mild case of paranoia over the years due to dealing with vindictive gangs on a regular basis, and his internal system of marking certain situations with red flags helped him stay on top of it. Unconsciously, he already had a preemptive grip on the pistol holstered on his hip. “Maybe. Who wants to know?”

            The asari clearly noticed his hand slide to the sidearm, but went wholly unfazed. “Someone in the central district wishes to see you.”

            “Assuming I _am_ , what would this be about? I wouldn't be going anywhere with intel as vague as that,” Kevin stated, crossing his arms and leaning back against the weapons kiosk counter.

            She looked right and left and motioned for him to come closer. Recognizing this as a typical ambush position, Kevin simply tilted his head in obvious distrust. She sighed. “It is in regards to your contact. I cannot tell you anything more here. Go see the information broker in the central district and she'll explain.”

            Before Kevin could ask her anything else, she backed up and disappeared into the crowd. He rolled his eyes, hung his head, and let out an exasperated sigh. Great. His contact got mugged, capped, or both. He just wanted his due creds for crying out loud. He tapped the side of the kiosk twice as he stood and got out of that lower trade range before anything else happened. Back up to the hub he trekked and he called for a cab once he was outside. One of the great things about Illium was that cabs were bountiful, cheap, and tended to have drivers that were easy on the eyes. Automated cabs were available, but were unpopular and as such, less common.

            “Hey human, where are you off to?” The way she said _human_ sounded more like an identifier than an insult.

            “Central district trade floor, please.”

            “Oh ho ho, manners~. Right away, sir.” She seemed pleasantly surprised by the simple fact that he said 'please'. Kevin got the feeling off-worlders didn't use the cabs because they _wanted to_ anymore. A pity. He eyed the setup of the cab before stepping in and found it to be clean. No emblems to be had outside those attributed to the transport company.

            Before he knew it, he was already landing outside the trade floor in the central district of Nos Astra. Exiting the cab, he waved the chit twice to enable credit payment and immediately began heading for the doors to the trade floor, where the information broker's office was. Behind him, the asari driver called after him about paying her twice or something. Knowingly, Kevin simply looked back and nodded. A genuine 'thank you' was heard before the cab took off.

            Thankfully, this place was far less crowded than the lower trade range. It made tracking individuals much easier and allowed him to relax his nerves just a bit. He kept an eye out for his volus 'friend', but the stout contact wasn’t anywhere to be seen. When he walked up to the information broker and trade administrator’s door, the human receptionist called to him.

            “Hi there, what can I do for you today, sir?” The friendly voice, trained for the job, was countered by the unmistakable fact that she was new. Her desk was clean. Not 'tidy' clean, but more to the effect of 'I don't have a lot to put here yet' clean.

            “Kevin Folner. I'm here to see the broker. I was contacted over in the east district about a meeting?” Precise and to the point.

            “Oh! Go on in, she'll be expecting you.”

            Without a word of thanks, Kevin simply turned and walked through the already-opening door and looked around a bit before stepping inside. One could never be too careful, especially when dealing with known shadow broker agents. This wasn’t the first time he dealt with this particular asari, either. Behind the only real desk in the room overlooking the trade floor, an asari with a formal dress and deep green markings on her face poked her head out from behind the computer screen and stared Kevin down blankly for a brief moment before smiling and standing.

            “You must be Kevin. Welcome.” She held out a hand in greeting. Naturally, he accepted.

            “You're not the infamous Liara I was expecting. Did I miss a memo?” The potential for bad things to happen would just not end today.

            “Sounds like you know a few things, Kevin. Be wary of what you speak here on Illium.” Her smile by this point was a bit more forced than before. “Unfortunately, Ms. T'Soni had some urgent and permanent business to take care of a few weeks ago. I am here to fill the position of trade floor administration and information broker in her stead. My name is Tarla Morrahl.”

            “Well, miss Morrahl,” Kevin sternly started, “as I mentioned last time I was here, I’m not exactly a newcomer to Illium. There is no need to address me as such.”

            “Indeed.” She offered him a nice plush seat in front of her desk. The posh kind of furniture generally only picked up by people who _know_ they’re in a position of power.

            “So,” Kevin continued, sitting down and steepling his fingers over his lap, “You have information on my contact? That worries me a bit, though I suppose it shouldn't surprise me seeing as how you both probably work for the same guy.”

            Her face turned less than pleasant for a split second before she looked to the side and answered. “My sources tell me he was ambushed in the lower trade range yesterday. The assailants were not visibly from any known organization. Possibly Eclipse mercenaries with their tattoos removed.”

            “Figured as much. A volus without bodyguards is like a ripe fruit waiting to be picked in the alleyways here.” He shook his head with a sigh before he looked back to Tarla, sitting back and getting into a slightly more confident, relaxed position. “Funny how he's the only volus in recent memory to have gotten 'mugged' in the trade range,” he pushed, the word  'mugged' coupled with the proper lifted hands and  bending fingers to simulate quotation marks, “or in any relatively public area of Illium. So much for that promised safety, yes?” He wasn’t being subtle about the fact that he wasn’t buying that terrible story.

            “Illium is just as dangerous as any other Terminus bordering world, Mr. Folner. You know that as well as I do. Back to the reason I called you here. I have received the pay you were to be getting, and I can forward it to your usual account immediately. Assuming, of course, you have proof of termination of the marked individual.”

            “Here, love,” Kevin started as he pulled his new favorite credit chit from inside a pocket on his outfit and tossed it on her desk, “put it on here instead. As for the proof…” He reached into his bulging right leg pocket and pulled out the sealed box. He pressed a small button on the side and the top opened up, revealing the ghastly contents. He stood up and reached through the holographic monitor, placing the box on the desk right in front of her.

            “There you go. A holo of the terminated mark and blood to match DNA files.”

            Tarla slowly pushed the box aside with the tips of her fingers, not even bothering to cross-reference the DNA. She forced another smile and typed a few things into her terminal. “Very well, Mr. Folner. Payment of ten thousand credits to this chit, correct? Done.”

            “Pleasure doing business. Now if you'll exc---” He was cut off by an asari busting into the room, wearing a typical service worker's uniform. Probably a dock worker or mechanical engineer for repairing ships. Reflexively, his head snapped to the source of the sudden interruption.

            “Tarla, you were right! The ship's configuration is sim--” She cut herself off when she caught a glimpse of Kevin standing right there. Her lips sealed up tight after that.

            Kevin looked back to Tarla and she was silently mouthing words to the nameless asari. Said nameless asari simply looked at Kevin and nodded before backing up to leave.

            “Where did you get that ship, Mr. Folner?” Her eyes didn’t fall to him until the sentence finished.

            “That information is worth quite a bit, Miss Morrahl. Not something I'll likely just let drop. Also, are your people snooping around my vessel? I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” He folded his arms and began to slowly pace back and forth in front of her desk. His stare indicated that hostility was mere moments away.

            “No no. No one has been aboard your ship, Mr. Folner. The observations were merely exterior. And I can pay you quite a sum of credits for that information.”

            Two red flags: Shadow broker agents scouting his ship _and_ removing his contact. This was getting way out of hand. He had already stayed two red flags longer than he should have, and now he was starting to get worried about his chances of getting out. Why was the shadow broker even interested in him or his ship? It was time to get out of dodge. Now.

            “I propose a trade, Tarla. I tell you where I got my ship, and you tell me something of equal value.” She hesitated a moment, evaluating just how valuable this information could be to her.

            “Very well, Mr. Folner. What is it you wish to know?” She shifted her expression and equipped her poker face, as business was being done on an information level—her kind of expertise.

            “I want to know who Linus Werner works for, and why he was targeted for assassination by the shadow broker.” This seemed to be an acceptable trade to the asari, as she didn't hesitate long.

            “Just one moment,” she paused, deferring to her terminal for that information. She tapped the keys for a few seconds before drawing in a breath as her brows creased together unexpectedly. “My sources tell me Linus Werner was working for the shadow broker himself. One of his top agents, in fact. He was targeted for assassination because it was discovered that he was working as a double agent for another organization.”

            “Who was he a double agent for?” he asked, curious.

            “That information, Mr. Folner, is worth more than ten times the information I just gave you. Now, where did you get that vessel?” The tone of her voice transformed to be much less inviting. Almost dark. It did _not_ help Kevin’s feelings about today’s downward spiral.

            “That ship, the Kellius?” Kevin folded his hands behind his back and turned towards the door. “I acquired it from my last target, Linus Werner.” He turned his head just enough to show the asari the side of his face as a slight smirk pulled upward at the corner of his mouth. “After ending his life, his ship was the easiest of many options off of Omega, if not the most luxurious. Either way, the ship is now mine.”

            The asari looked down for a moment, brows furrowed and deep in thought. Kevin’s gaze had just enough time to catch it before she quickly returned to her poker face in realization of her momentary lapse.

            “That's a frigate sized vessel, isn't it? Doesn't it need a crew of several? How did you get that here on your own?”

            “Five thousand more credits and I'll tell you,” he said smugly.

            “You work a fast game, Mr. Folner,” she said as she tapped onto her terminal without hesitation, “but it is done.”

             Kevin noted her willingness to obtain all information about his ship. It made him doubly uneasy. Normally information like this would undergo at least _some_ level of negotiation. Nevertheless, he had to keep up his end of the bargain. “The ship is indeed a small frigate, but not so technologically old that it needs all ten to pilot it. Some of the systems aboard the ship are rather advanced for what I'd expect for even a _wealthy_ civilian's vessel, particularly in the navigation and ship-wide systems control. It allows for a single pilot to fly the ship and be in indirect control of all systems with surprising ease.”

            The information broker brought a hand to her chin in thought and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Folner. I'm glad we could reach a settlement so quickly. Unfortunately, I am due to meet someone very soon, so I am afraid I must ask you to be on your way.”

            “Fair enough,” he agreed, stepping forward to get his metaphorically fat stack of credits. “Oh and next time you decide to off one of my contacts, at least send someone who looks less like a seasoned biotic user, alright?”

            Without giving her a chance to have the last word, Kevin turned and started his way out of the office. Before the door closed behind him, he could swear he heard her curse under her breath. As he turned to head down the stairs, the receptionist called after him.

            “Thank you for your visit, Mr. Folner! I hope you had a pleasant meet with Tarla.”

            He paused and turned around just long enough to respond with a slight chuckle and a forced smile. “Oh yes, just peachy. Have a good day.”

            And with that, he was back down to the main trade floor in the center of Nos Astra. He tilted his head left and right as he contemplated all of red flags he had noticed today. He immediately made for the closest place to pick up a cab so he could get back to his ship before anyone else decided to scope it out. As he proceeded through the shipping area, he passed by an asari and salarian arguing over something that was probably rather trivial. Piece by piece, he began to pick up pieces of their conversation as he moved on by. One particular piece of information, however, caused him to stop and look.

            “I'm sorry, Mr. Dolannus, but there aren't any transports scheduled to leave for the Citadel today. You'll just have to wait like everyone else.”

            The asari was a typical dock worker, helping take care of the shipments that moved through the shipping area. The datapad laying against her left forearm, at a quick glance, had manifests and transport schedules on and off-world. The salarian though… Kevin knew that name. Dolannus. He had a contact on the Citadel with that clan name, and they were very close friends. Family, perhaps?

            Kevin gave the salarian a quick once-over. He wore an Eclipse uniform, and his Citadel contact was _definitely_ not part of Eclipse. Interestingly, he carried a military grade pistol with him instead of a standard Eclipse issue sidearm. More importantly, he sported the same back-turned 'horns' on the top of his head as opposed the ones that simply curved inward like most salarians. Tarsil Dolannus, Kevin's friend on the Citadel, said that such an incredibly unique trait was a source of pride for his family and it often allowed them to come out on top in breeding arrangements because of it. Apparently unique traits among salarians that don’t interfere with daily lives were regarded as pricey rarities rather than some form of defect.

            “But I need to get off of Illium. _Now._ I can't wait for tomorrow!” At this point, the salarian was looking rather worried and he kept pressing the asari for a resolution.

            “Then find a transport going somewhere other than the Citadel,” the asari spat. “There are plenty of other places to go, and a bunch of them are leaving today!”

            “But I…” He shook his head. “This planet will be the death of me!”

            The asari shook her head in frustration and simply walked away. “I don't get paid enough for this crap!”

            The salarian hung his head for a second before he steeled his resolve and decided to find another way off the planet. It was at this point Kevin stepped in.

            “Your last name is Dolannus?”

            Slightly startled, the salarian turned all the way around once before actually looking at Kevin.

            “Maybe. Who wants to know?” It was a familiar phrase, but his speech was fast and calculated. The salarian rubbed his fingers together as if about to break out in a sweat in anticipation of the answer.

            Kevin put his hands up palm-out to the jumpy individual. “Hey, relax. My name is Kevin Folner. Do you have a brother named Tarsil Dolannus on the Citadel?”

            “Maybe. Who. Wants. To. Know?” He almost looked ready to pull his sidearm. Kevin would be ready for that.

            “No one except me, and I'm not working for anyone. At the moment.”

            “Kevin Folner, you said?” The salarian tapped two of three fingers on his chin. “Yes… Yes I remember Tarsil talking about you from time to time.” He seemed to relax a bit.

            “Hopefully not much,” Kevin joked. “That guy tells some wild stories.” He chuckled under his breath and shook his head as he recalled some of the over-the-top tales Tarsil had spun.

            “True, Tarsil does enjoy rousing a crowd with a good pseudo-fiction story.” He let out a sigh. “Alright, I suppose I can trust you more than the other thugs around here. My name is Ralik. Ralik Dolannus. Tarsil is indeed my brother.”

            “You look a lot like him, you know that?”

            “Normally I argue that _he_ looks a lot like _me_ , but you know Tarsil. He's older than me by forty-five minutes. So in actuality, I do look a lot like _him_.”

            “Actually, I didn't know that much, but hey. I do now. I overheard that you need a ride. Why in such a hurry?”

            Ralik lightened up rather fast. “You have a ship then? Where is it?”

            “It's docked in the southern district,” Kevin said while flicking a thumb to the south. “We'll need to take a cab to get there. Why don't you tell me what's going on along the way?”

            “Well…” He executed another rub of the fingers and a quickly looked left and right. “Alright, but let's move discreetly. I… I don't want to bring too much attention to ourselves right now.”

            And so they headed out of the shipping area and towards the best place to call a cab on this skyscraper—the nook loaded with cars outside the rather small and quaint Nos Astra Police Force booth.

            “So why the discretion? Everything about your body language says you need to get out of here fast. Someone after you?” Kevin pressed on the console to call for a driven cab, and no one came. Not right away, at least. He needed to opt for manned transport, since automatic cabs were easily susceptible to being hacked by the technologically savvy Eclipse gang. Nos Astra was their turf.

            “Yes. As a matter of fact, I believe a good portion of the Eclipse mercenary gang is trying to catch and horribly dismember me at the moment.”

            “Them again. But wait, you're in an Eclipse hardsuit. Aren't you one of them? Why would they be after you?” Kevin asked in a serious tone as he again pressed on the cab call console.

            “Well… The hardsuit isn't exactly mine, and I'll explain. I'm a field researcher and recon specialist. I was recently hired by the Nos Astra Police Force to help research a potential kinetic barrier upgrade for the non-asari personnel on the force. As I was researching, I came across a few recent messages passed along via extranet that someone on Illium was nearing completion of a prototype PCBT.”

            Kevin waved a hand in the air wildly. “Hold on a second. PCBT? I know CBT stands for Cyclonic Barrier Technology, but what is the P for?” Kevin was curious. He wasn’t the most tech-savvy guy around, but he knew enough about tech that he could still get into decent conversations.

            “ _Personal_ Cyclonic Barrier Technology,” Ralik stated with a confident smile.

            “That's… impressive. I've never heard of that used on anything but a lucky few fighters and even fewer frigates.”

            “Indeed. It's a very advanced and power-hungry design, but could considerably decrease kinetic barrier failure in burst firefights.”

            After seeing that no cabs were coming, Ralik himself activated the console. This time, however one came right away. They climbed aboard and specified their destination.

            “Southern district, please,” Kevin ordered. “As close to dock South one twenty-five as possible.” He and his new salarian acquaintance settled in as the asari nodded and began to take off. This cab was an interestingly different model from what Kevin was used to. The door on the side opposite the engine opened outward and up without compromising the windshield. The cab was practically brand new on the inside; it must have been an upgrade for the Nos Astra Public Transportation Services.

            Ralik then continued. “I too saw the great potential this had and deemed it an appropriate upgrade for the NAPF, so I sought out whoever was designing this technology so that I might possibly negotiate a contract to let the police also have this installed on their hardsuits. However, the more I dug for information, the more I came to realize that this was being done by the techs in Eclipse. Worse than that, they had planned to use this new shielding _against_ the Nos Astra Police Force when conflicts arose so that they might come out superior.”

            “Yeah, that's not good. Things are pretty balanced right now, but that would tip that balance for Eclipse—and not for the better of Illium.”

            “I thought as much myself. I did some data mining and surveillance on the information and found the core of the design project was actually stationed here in Nos Astra. I had to… What's the phrase you humans use? Ah yes, 'jump through some hoops' in order to get detailed information on the location of the project, but I was able to mark out a rather small area, about four or five buildings in Nos Astra's southern district, where I might find it. From there, I put my reconnaissance skills to work and picked out an asari and salarian duo that were part of the project, but fronting as biotic amp sales clerks by attending kiosks.”

            “Where did you learn the skill sets for all this? I thought you said you were a field researcher.” Something didn't add up. There was a lot of background information that he felt was intentionally being left out.

            “I'll get to that in a moment. Anyways, the duo split up and I chose to track the asari. They eventually met back up on a different building at a lower level. There's a general underground knowledge of that area being deep in Eclipse territory, so there were a lot of guards stationed near there warning people to keep an eye out for trouble, so on and so forth. I'm not _extensively_ trained in infiltration, but what experience I have is quite sufficient to handle this. And even then, the facility in question wasn't well conceived as far as anti-infiltration standards go. All I needed was a good look at the blueprints for the tower and I had a straight shot in.”

            “By yourself? That's risky. That is, unless you really knew what you were doing.”

            “Like I said, I'll get to that. Once inside, I picked out the salarian I had been following and waited for him to break off. When he did, I caught him amidst getting his Eclipse hardsuit on. I acquired his IDs, uniform, and omni-tool authentication codes. Using these three things, I gained access to the central servers where the data for the project was stored. Fortunately, the authentication codes had high enough clearance to allow me to download the project files. Once I had a complete copy in my possession, I proceeded to relieve them of the files the quickest and most systemically efficient way I knew how—a destructive virus planted within the kernel of the central server. Thus the project, and a lot of other data that the Eclipse probably wanted to keep, was deemed unrecoverable in a matter of minutes.”

            “And you just _happened_ to have a high-tier data killing virus on hand? Wow.” Kevin laughed. “Talk about done and done. Brutally efficient, my friend. Obviously you made it out well enough.”

            “Initially I had little resistance. The Eclipse uniform in addition to the fact that I’m salarian helped me get at least halfway out without so much as a warning that someone was tampering with the servers.” He paused a moment to reach up and poke his backturned horns. “Unfortunately, my family trait caused someone to question my identification. At that point it was a shoot and run situation, but without a flight off the planet, I knew I would be hounded until I was beyond their reach.”

            “And that's where I come in, I suppose.”

            “Precisely! And I am very grateful for it. You have _no_ idea.”

            Kevin saw the asari wave to a passing car and took the moment to look outside. They were a little over halfway to the drop-off point, and he settled back into his seat. He turned to ask Ralik another question, but he was stopped by the distracting fact that the driver waved again. Now that he thought about it, when did anyone ever wave to other drivers? They moved too fast to recognize other people in their cars. He then was struck by the dire fact that he had been too distracted by his conversation with Ralik to give the cab his usual visual search. Kevin leaned over from his seat behind the driver and looked around without catching her attention. He saw something he wished he hadn’t—a small dangling Eclipse emblem. Its metallic surface sparkled as it mocked him with its presence.

            She waved one more time. Ralik started to ask Kevin something, but was quickly silenced by a hand brought over his mouth. This situation had just gotten critically worse, and Kevin knew it was going to get messy real fast. He got up and looked behind them out through the rear window of the cab and he noticed two cars right behind them, and a third pulling from the opposite directional lane to make a flat triangle formation with those other two.

            “Please remain seated, sir,” the asari professionally requested. “I cannot be held responsible for unseated injuries while I'm driving.” It appeared as though she hadn't noticed Kevin's sudden change of urgency.

            Ralik did, though. He sat silent and waited for more information. Kevin put up three fingers out of sight from the asari and tapped the emblem on Ralik's hardsuit to point out what it was he was referring to. Lastly, he flicked a thumb towards the back of the cab to indicate where they were. Something needed to be done now, or they would end up in another deadly ambush.

            Kevin reached forward over the back of the asari’s chair and his hands hovered on either side of her head. With practiced speed, he grabbed her by the jaw and tips of her head ridges so he could quickly twist the head to the right much further than it was meant to. A stomach lurching snap caused Ralik to recoil a bit and the asari fell limp instantly.

            “Oh my… Kevin, what are you doing? Hopefully something other than committing murder!”

            “Ralik, take the wheel!” Kevin shouted.

            “What?! But I...”

            “Just do it before we're embedded in a skyscraper! That asari is with the Eclipse, she was going to bring us to an ambush location.”

            “W-What?!” Ralik was both surprised and annoyed at the same time. He shook his head and sighed as he shifted to move. “So much for being discreet, Kevin.”

            Kevin pulled the asari deadweight from her driver's seat on the right side to the front passenger seat on the left side to make room for Ralik. The salarian promptly hopped into the driver's seat and kept the car steady within the travel lane. Having dealt with these Eclipse before, Kevin tuned the comm device from the cab company’s channel to the one that the Eclipse tended to use during operations. Suddenly, there was a lot more noise.

            _“—car swerved, should we move?”_ A human male's voice asked.

            _“Not yet, we'd rather they were brought to the preset destination first. You don't want every traffic cop on your rear.”_ Female. Probably asari.

            “Alright, let’s put them on the defensive.  _This_ will get their attention,” Kevin said smugly while hoisting up the dead asari's body. “Ralik, open this door.”

            “You're insane.”

            “Just watch me work and keep the car steady.” He pointed to Ralik and clicked his tongue twice. Sure it was confident, maybe even arrogant, but he wasn't the type to simply get cocky without reason.

            When the left side door opened up he quickly threw the asari out, not even caring what was below. There was a good chance the falling body would hit another car, maybe even someone walking below. Either way, it had the effect was looking for and was quickly confirmed by the chatter on the comm channel.

            _“Good lord, did you see that? E-base, we have a situation. The ambush cab has been compromised! Repeat, the ambush cab is now under the control of that scrubby merc and that salarian!”_

            _“Switch to the secure channel of thirty-four point eighteen, and unscramble with cipher algorithm nexus five! That wannabe assassin knows our channels; we don't want him listening in!”_ From the way it sounded, the female seemed to be the one running the operation.

            “A little too slow on the draw, sweet cheeks.” Kevin smirked and input the new channel and unscrambling cipher with a few beeps on the comm device. Once their unobstructed listening had resumed, the sound of curses flew freely, followed by some metaphorically pointed fingers and the attack order.

            _“All ambush units, move in on that car! Take that son of a-- (static) --down!”_

            “What kind of weapons does this thing have?” Kevin asked cheekily.

            Ralik tore his eyes away from the lane ahead to give Kevin a one-of-a-kind stare. “It’s a taxi cab. It has a fare m—Oh. You’re kidding. Excuse me while I _fail to laugh_ as I focus on driving!”  
            Kevin chuckled and grasped the exposed rear doorframe so he could lean out. He sighted his pistol on the lead and took three controlled, precise shots in rapid succession aimed at the heads of the driver and passengers. The car swerved violently, but regained control at the lead of the three. It didn't look like any bullets penetrated.

            “Well balls, _that_ didn’t work. Reinforced windshield. Figures.” Kevin spat into the wind, disappointed that his shots didn't connect. “Their cabs are a bit more modified than I thought.” _I'll just need a different spot to shoot,_ he mused.

            _“Holy… We're taking fire! We're taking fire! Return fire immediately!”_

            _“No big guns!”_ the woman shouted. _“We want to keep the commotion down for now!”_

            “Uh, Kevin,” Ralik called, trying to get his attention, “How about taking a seat? I'm about to employ some evasive maneuvers.”

            “You won't have to. If they have reinforced plating and glass, then that means we do too. This is an Eclipse's cab, remember?”

            “I'd rather _not_ test that theory of yours! Hang on!”

            The whine of their car increased in pitch as they gained speed. A lot of the other cars around them seemed pretty oblivious to their situation, at least until the speeding cars passed them. At that point, the other cars dispersed away from the four haphazard drivers in order to avoid any collusion. Kevin was sure by then that at least _someone_ had reported them as rogue vehicles causing trouble in the travel lanes. For now, however, that was the least of their worries. The doors on the three following cars opened up on the side and armored Eclipse members stepped to look out towards Kevin and Ralik in a similar fashion to the way Kevin hung on the frame looking back at them. The two mercenaries in the rear pulled out pistols, and the one in the leading car brought out what appeared to be an M-8 Avenger assault rifle.

            “Here comes the first volley, Ralik!” Kevin yelled, gripped the frame tight and ducking in, expecting a sudden change in direction.

            “Understood! Braking low!” Ralik informed as he slammed on the cab's brakes and tipped the wheel forward. The car's pitch died rather fast and they slowed down almost fast enough to make Kevin lose his tightened grip on the frame. Bullets whizzed by and clanked off of the backside of the cab for a second or two until their altitude dropped sharply so that the pursuers flew overhead. This gave Kevin an excellent opportunity. When the mercs passed overhead far enough so that his line of sight wasn't obstructed by the opened door, he carefully took aim with his pistol.

            _“Targets broke low! Fire! Fire!”_ The man making these calls was beginning to sound more and more irritated with each passing minute.

_Plink Clang Clang_

            Three shots were placed at the vulnerable underbelly of the lead car’s element zero engine. He was hoping to disable their mass effect field and nullify their propulsion. It worked. The car he shot began to dive sharply towards the ground.

            _“Mayday, we're hit! Our mass effect field is offline and we're going down!”_

            _“Nice shot, bloody—“_ A third voice, far calmer than the first male one.

            _“Stop screwing around out there! I'm sending you two more cabs with heavier munitions! You have authorization to use something with more punch! Remember, they have one of our modded cabs!”_

            “Kevin, two heavier armed cabs are en route, and these guys here just got authorization to employ larger munitions as well.”

            _“Yeah yeah, keep your panties on, Kera. We'll get it done while these kids play cops and robbers.”_ This was another new voice, a male human with deeper tone than the first and second. Probably from one of the new cars.

            “Heftier potshots, huh?” Kevin twirled his pistol around his index finger. He didn’t have time to play around anymore or they’d get shot down for sure. “I guess I can take that bet. See if you can get us behind them. I have another idea.”

            “Guess we’ll be testing that theory after all,” Ralik said with a shake of the head. He pressed down on the accelerator and pulled back on the steering wheel. The cab began to whine again as they picked up speed and attempted to maneuver around a few innocent drivers to get behind the mercs. More shots hit their cab from up front, placing obscuring white spider webs all over the windshield. What missed them likely hit another car, as traffic wasn't exactly light around here.

            _“They're behind us. Shoot 'em down with the missiles!”_

            “Missiles? Here? In the freakin’ _travel lanes?_ ” Kevin wondered aloud as he started gathering dark energy. Things just got more complicated. His left hand began to shimmer with distorted light, as though it was emanating a lot of heat. Holding then onto the frontward frame with his right hand, he threw out a concentrated biotic throw to the left of the leftmost vehicle and aimed its impact to the right in order to hit the back-left broadside corner.

            Fortunately, Kevin's many training hours spent simply honing his aim paid off. The biotic force hit the merc car's backside and thrust their rear end into the other merc vehicle. There was a fantastic shower of sparks and several jumbled yells on the comm device. The whine of their vehicles had both become unstable noticeable by the fluctuating whine of the engines and they began to make a shaky decent towards the planet surface.

            _“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiii---”_

            _“Augh! Morons, what are you doing? We've lost mass effect field integrity! We're losing altitude!”_

            _“Can't you boys do anything right? You're starting to piss me off!”_ The boss apparently wasn't used to losing.

            “Was that biotics I saw just now? Excellent! And may I say, your aim is frighteningly accurate.” Ralik spoke even faster than before, caught up in the intensity of the moment.

            “Way too much practice, Ralik. You know where the hangar is, right?” He took this brief quiet moment to sit down in the passenger seat.

            “Not exactly. In addition, I believe it will be difficult to board our ship with a myriad of police officers swarming the hangar.”

            “What?” Kevin looked back and noticed at least five police cruisers chasing them down. He rolled his eyes. “Ah crap. Well, we'll just have to be fast.”

            _“Do you have a sight on their cab yet?”_

_“No, too many freakin’ police in the way. Don't worry though. I'll fix that right quick.”_ It sounded like the new mercs were dangerously close.

            “Uh, Ralik? Watch out for stray shots,” Kevin instructed. He continued to watch behind them, wondering just to what extremes Eclipse would go to take them out.

            Suddenly, the police cruiser formation scattered after two of center-most cruisers erupted in explosions. The ones that didn't get damage enough to lose altitude broke off and headed down a different direction.  All of the civilians in non-automated vehicles in the area took off in a frenzied wave.

            _“Hahaaaa! Run, cowards! Run like the little worms you a—Oh hey. There they are.”_ The last statement seemed as if the speaker knew where Kevin and Ralik were the whole time.

            “Well, that takes care of that...” Kevin mentioned as he got up and returned to his post at the open door gripping the frame. “The hangar is over there, Ralik. See the building with the bubble-like round roof?”

            “A popular architectural choice by both humans and asari as of late. Peculiar. I don't see the appeal,” Ralik casually added with a nod and a slight change in direction.

            “Better make it quick.” Kevin leaned back outside to look back to see only two cars following them in the entire lane. His short hair danced about frantically in the high winds and a good deal of sound was drowned out by the white noise caused by the wind passing over his ears. He once again pulled out his pistol and he aimed down the sight, looking for something to take a clear shot at.

            “There's our friends. Keep the car as steady as you can, Ralik. I'm going to attempt a _very_ precise shot.”

            “No guarantees once the explosives start flying, but until then, I will do my best.”

            _“Alright boys, lets light ‘em up,”_ the deep voiced male crackled over the comms device.

            _“We're dropping low,”_ a second voice stated, presumably in the second car.

            The doors on both cars opened up in a similar fashion to Kevin and Ralik's, but only one stayed at the same altitude as them. Kevin reasoned that it was likely the second car dropped so that they wouldn't be caught in any explosions. As the car at the same altitude closed in, a human wielding a missile launcher stepped out into view. His stance was confident and sturdy, hardly being affected at all by the wind from their high-speed chase. Kevin had two choices here: shoot the merc in the head and hope his shields weren't strong, or shoot the missile he's about to launch since the tip was exposed. The destructive capacity of the latter was greater, more practical, and less likely to fail barring Kevin's aim, so the decision wasn't hard. Unfortunately, hitting the tip of a missile with a shot from his gun would take nigh-superhuman perception to achieve, as opposed to hitting the fat head of the merc wielding it.

            He aimed down his sight with a steady hand, focusing on the tip of the missile as the merc heaved it up and got ready to fire. Tension rose as the need for this shot to connect was absolutely critical. He took into account the wind from their current speed, and the distance at which his target kept at. He heard no beeps, but he saw the three lights on the side of the launcher begin to light up in succession. He only got one, maybe two shots before the projectile would be too difficult to track. He felt his head warm as the synapses fired at higher and higher speeds above normal, causing his perception of everything to slow down and his senses to heighten incredibly. One split second adjustment due to a small wind variance was made before he pulled the trigger without hesitation.

            His brain was now working in complete overdrive, and the world around him seemed to slow. In his head, he could hear himself analyzing the situation as it happened.

            _The gun fires. Recoil is minimal. I see the projectile leave the front of the pistol, distorting the light of Tasale as it travels beyond my ability to track it. The last and final light on the launcher illuminates and the missile is armed. The launch process begins, with small wisps of smoke exiting the side of the launcher opposite the user. Suddenly, the entire area is engulfed in ever expanding fire and noise. A husk of a cab starts to fall towards the surface, smoking and empty. Amidst the white noise and diminishing shockwave, I hear another missile launch. The second car!_

            Kevin's head quickly snapped in the direction of the other mercenary vehicle below them while instinctively gathering dark energy to himself, only in time to catch the puff of smoke from the launch falling away from the device. He knew he only had a couple seconds at best to do something before they would be partaking in the fate of the first car. Without enough time gather enough dark energy to deter the missile's direction with a curved throw, he erected a barely existent barrier in a last ditch effort to keep from becoming a flaming pile of falling meat.

            The barrier caused the missile to detonate, causing it to explode just under a meter away from the back end of the cab. It didn’t have near enough strength to stop any of the concussive force, either.

            The deafening explosion rocked their car immensely and shook Kevin from his 'heightened' state. He was thrown off of his feet and his back smashed against the ceiling of the cab before he came back down half onto the front passenger chair and half on the floor.

            He grunted loudly at the impact and his eyes rolled around. Desperately, he forced his vision back into focus and mentally worked to bring his battered senses in order. Finally, he could barely hear the fuzzy and frantic voice of his salarian pilot shouting at him.

            “Kevin, we're going down! I have minimal control of what momentum we have left! Just enough to fall forward rather than straight down!”

            “Aim…” Kevin coughed hard and felt his lungs lurch in strained bursts. “Aim for the hangar…” He steadied himself and attempted to at least get up on the chair. Numerous warning, beeps, and alarms were blaring out of the dashboard, making it pretty apparent that the damage they sustained was catastrophic. He looked up towards the back seat and realized that there wasn't one. The back half of the passenger cabin was taken by the explosion, and only a portion of the engine remained. Other than that, all there was to see was smoke, a few dancing flames, and the scenic horizon of Illium. He flipped over onto his back and pushed himself to sit upright so he could look at where they were heading. So far, Ralik was right on target. The base of the hangar building was coming up fast. His eyes widened, and he hoped this reinforced hull and glass would hold up against the impact. After seeing what one explosion did to it, though, he wasn’t very confident.

            “Impact in five seconds, brace yourself!” Ralik did likewise by locking his arms at full length, pressing away from the steering wheel and into the seat.

            “Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap crapcrapcrap!” The closer they got to the building, the more Kevin's eyes widened and the further into his own seat he pressed.

            They tore into the side of the building like an armor piercing bullet hitting sheet metal. They had hit a window, and the glass of both the building and their cab shattered violently. When they hit the floor of the level they tore into, it failed to hold their impact and it gave out underneath them instantly in a messy and fiery implosion of burning metal. As luck would have it, the floor they next fell into was just outside the hangar access corridor. Thankfully this one did not give out, and Kevin and Ralik felt the jarring impact in full. The mass effect fields designed to prevent personal injury inside the cab had failed entirely, and the two passengers bounced freely and painfully against the internal remains before the spectacular crash was reduced to a flaming cab sliding noisily down the corridor. The cab and the floor screeched sharply as the metal surfaces ground against each other and sent sparks and smoke in every direction. They finally came to a jerking stop when they smacked into a thick support pillar in the middle of the hallway. Ralik was the first to say anything after a dazed moment of relative silence.

            “O-Ow.”

            “Auuugh.” Kevin was face down and had to roll over again to look around. Things were spinning. “Hey Ralik… Anything… broken?”

            “I—Gahowowow… I don't think so, but I certainly hurt _everywhere_. Did I ever tell you I'm not fond of crashing? Remind me never to take joy rides with you _ever again_.”

            Kevin let out a hearty, yet forcefully suppressed chuckle.

            “Ow ow ow, don't make me laugh. Ow. Come on. This place will be covered in police, media and disaster aid groups in a matter of minutes,” Kevin stated matter-of-factly while shakily trying to get out of the charred remains of their cab. He felt a good deal of his battered muscles screaming at him for doing such a foolish thing.

            “Right… Let me just… make sure everything is attached and educate myself on how to move my limbs again.”

            As Kevin finally got upright and the ringing began to fade from his ears, he heard the intermittent crackle of static mixed with cut off voices. Somehow, the comms device was still working.

            _“Got--(static) down into--(static) building--(static) a goner!”_ It was the same deep-toned voice from before.

            _“Good. Now get--(static) base before the--(static) finds out you shot that son of--(static) down!”_

            Kevin frowned as much as his bruising face would allow. Normally he would opt to let them believe he was dead, effectively getting them off of his backside for a short while. Unfortunately, he knew they would figure it out once they saw his ship leaving the hangar amidst a crisis. Instead, he had to make it clear to them that he could not be killed that easily. The apprehension they might face as a result was worth it, especially since it would point out to them that he had access to their secure channel. He grabbed the miraculously functional communication device and check to make sure it was still tuned to their secure channel. He activated the receiver and pulled it right up to his mouth.

            “You idiots missed,” was his short and triumphant reply. Satisfied, he carelessly threw the comm device aside so he wouldn't have to listen to an attempt at a rebuttal. The immediate lack of static and other noise indicated that it was definitely broken this time.

            Ralik coughed heavily from the smoke and he strained to move, but he was able to get up and stagger his way over to the wall closest to the hangar. He held his right arm tight against his side. As for Kevin, he was able to get up, but things were still blurry and the room moved like gelatin in his mind. His body fought him continually, and as much as it told him not to move, he knew he had to get to his ship with haste. A deep breath, another hushed exclamation of pain, and several wobbly steps later, he ended up leaning on the same wall as Ralik. Together, they hobbled their way to the door of the hanger, and lucky for them, it still opened despite having taken a nasty hit from debris. They could hear the sounds of police cruisers and emergency response teams approaching the building and their pace increased desperately in response.

            Once inside the airlock, the decontamination process began. Just like the first time, it was short and sweet; it was less than a minute before they were inside.

            “Ralik, can you fly a ship?” Kevin asked as he limped inside.

            “Not one of this size, I'm afraid.”

            “Dangit. Alright, I guess I'll take the helm then.”

            “Alert: Unrecognized profile has boarded the ship,” Terra's calm voice chimed.

            “Shut up, Terra, he's allowed,” Kevin stated, irritated. “No more alerts about unrecognized individuals. And register his profile.”

            “Acknowledged. Salarian DNA profile has been registered. Future profile registration will be automatic and will continue without alert. Please designate a name for this profile.”

            “Ralik Dolannus,” Ralik added.

            “Acknowledged.”

            “That's a rather vocal VI,” Ralik astutely stated. Still, he looked intrigued.

            “Not my choice. It was already built in when I got the ship. Terra, get the ship ready for lift-off.”

            “Acknowledged. Prepping engines.”

            As Kevin sat down in the front-most cockpit chair, he peered out the lower viewports to see Illium police and an asari SWAT-style response commando enter the room. They obviously heard his engines warming up and someone had ordered an instant lockdown. The large disc magnets that held the ship in place when docked held fast and refused to detach from the ship on command.

            “Crap, they're trying to lock us down,” Kevin audibly noted, wincing from his quick taps on the haptic interface. “We're getting out of here either way. Terra, regard all external access attempts as hostile.”

            “Acknowledged. Five external software intrusion attempts have been blocked thus far.”

            “I didn’t ask for a count, Terra. Freakin’ VIs… Take a seat, Ralik. This might get a little bumpy.” As soon as Ralik stepped into the slightly cramped cockpit, Kevin started a full reverse. Ralik bucked forward when the ship shook and pulled himself into a seat immediately.

            “I would advise against that. The docking---” The salarian's advice was cut short.

            The Kellius kicked backwards and started out of the hangar rather quick. Looking into the spot they were just in, it was obvious that the magnets still had not detached. The arms that normally held the magnet discs were still in position, if now considerably shorter and lacking those very discs altogether. The ends sparked and flashed before the arms retracted in a strained and broken stutter. Below the ship, the four unpowered discs slid off of the hull and to the floor of the hangar with several noisy clangs. The ship was pulling in reverse far too fast for his comfort level so Kevin employed an all stop and attempted to plot a way out of the dense forest of towering structures. Satisfied with a simplistic course that ignored travel lanes and headed for the sky, he punched on the thrusters before any more attempts to lock the ship down could be attempted.

            It was just about to hit dusk, and the fabled Illium evening skyline was as striking as the many stories claimed. In all the times Kevin had been to this planet, he had never had the chance to actually get a look at the dimming evening horizon. Most of his contracts only came out in the day and most of his operations he ran well after nightfall. Silhouettes of tall skyscrapers blotted out lines of shrinking sunlight, while others more to the side reflected it. Lights of all colors were becoming more and more visible across the entire surface of the planet, signaling the start of the Illium night life he was more familiar with. The beautiful view was fleeting, though, as it only took but a minute to rise above the point where it was a sweeping vista. Soon the legendary sight turned into a typical orbital planet view, which was nice in its own right but didn't hold the same level of awe. Kevin had his last view of Illium and now it is time to go.


	5. Chapter Four

### Chapter Four

            “What are you staring at?” Ralik asked as he leaned forward to peer out the viewports, curious as to what Kevin appeared so zoned into.

            “What? Oh. Nothing. It was just my first and probably last chance to get to see that famous Illium evening view,” he said in a manner more solemn than what Ralik had seen thus far.

            “Ah, yes. I can understand. I have seen it many times myself. Always breathtaking. I don't suppose I'll be coming back here anytime soon either. The Eclipse do not forget grudges very easily.” He waved a hand around dismissively. “Too many asari in their ranks for such offenses to slip the mind over the years.”

            “I can definitely attest to that myself. Hey, were you ever able to get that shield design data to the police?”

            Ralik looked confused for a moment before lifting a battered left arm, resorting to his omni-tool. The silence was slightly awkward; the would-be tension was only periodically released by the short beeps from the helmsman’s terminal and Ralik browsing the data on his omni-tool. After nearly a minute, Ralik simply looked up to Kevin and lifted his shoulders with a smile. “Oops.”

            “Hah. Well, at least we have some nice shield technology in our hands. Maybe we can sell it for a nice profit or develop it ourselves. Just… don’t count on me for substantial input on that kind of tech.”

            The salarian brought a three-fingered hand to his face in thought.

            “Hmm. The challenge in integrating this technology with our hardsuits would be substantial without a proper lab. I like it. I'll dabble with it every now and then and see what I can come up with.”

            “In the meantime, is there any particular place you want to head to right now? I haven’t really decided on any particular direction from here yet.”

            “Could…” He paused, considering his request. “Could we head to the Citadel? I should probably tell my brother what's going on. That's where I was heading before you interrupted, after all.”

            “That's as good a destination as any right about now. Terra, plot a course for the Citadel.”

            “Acknowledged. Course plotted for the nearest relay. Engaging FTL drive.” Kevin was thankful that Terra was short and to the point when she needed to be. Most of the time.

            “Say, why do you call the VI 'Terra', anyways?” Ralik asked as he rubbed his hurt arm.

            “Because it's easier than saying 'Technologically Extended and Revised Assistant.' That's why.”

            “But what does that mean? It's more than just a VI?”

            Time for Kevin to dump what he learned. “Sort of. It's more than a VI in the fact that it does more than simply interface with us. It has some control over the Kellius, albeit limited. For example. It has an autopilot program that follows shipping lanes to whatever the designated destination is. It's not perfect, but it gets the ship from point A to point B without a highly trained pilot.”

            “Intriguing. Limited how, though?”

            “I asked the same thing. For instance: you can 'set it and forget it' when going from known planet to known planet, but you can't use it for combat maneuvering or exploring unknown areas. It only works on a set of preinstalled data. It'll just find the straightest line to a destination, that straightest line being shipping lanes. And since shipping lanes include mass relays, it includes them in course plotting.”

            “Fascinating. Advanced VI, but not quite advanced enough to be considered AI in any fundamental aspect. Sounds like it would always be preferable to have a pilot at the controls, however.”

            “Pretty much. Thing is, neither of us are real pilots, so I'm just making due. At least this way we can go do other things and not be tied to the cockpit—er _Bridge_. Such as, you know, tend our wounds. There's a med bay towards the stern, we should get ourselves some first-aid.”

            “Yes… Yes I would like to get that taken care of right away,” Ralik's agreement was coupled by a quick wipe at his face in an effort to remove some slowly trickling blood away from his left eye.

            Ralik and Kevin cautiously limped their way back to the medical bay of the ship, using each other as support. Both had injuries, but few of them actually drew blood aside from an abrasion on Kevin’s head and a cut on Ralik’s injured arm. The rest of the injuries they suffered from were more the type to leave soon-to-be horrifyingly big bruises. Considering what they had just gone through, such minor injuries were nothing short of miraculous.

            Inside the med bay, three beds were arrayed jutting off the far side wall. Only two of them were close enough to the automated care systems to take advantage of said systems, but that didn't really matter to Kevin. He was content to simply apply some measured amounts of medi-gel to reduce inflammation, kill the pain, and close up his abrasion. He never liked the idea of a machine being in charge of his well being. At least not while he was conscious. It was a good thing for him that the med bay was suitably stocked with ample medi-gel and other 'manual' means of care. Once he finished caring for his wounds, he handed Ralik a vial of medi-gel. The salarian accepted after a brief moment, as he was still cleaning his few open wounds.

            “Ralik, you never told me how you came to have all this infiltration, recon, and data mining skills. Now is as good a time as any, right?” Kevin moved over to the third unmonitored bed and sat on it. It was high enough that even his fully grown man-legs couldn't reach the floor without sitting on the very edge, so he let his feet dangle.

            “Yes yes, I suppose a bit of an explanation is in order. It is only natural, seeing as how we are now both shipmates. Likewise, I expect a similar story on how you honed your biotics and pistol aim. That was no mere military trick.” He injected himself with the vial, and the soothing nature of the measured amount of gel. fell over any injuries within seconds. Now more relaxed, Ralik continued. “I spent some time in the salarian Special Tasks Group.”

            “The STG. I guess I should have known.”

            Ralik nodded once. “I found their operations most fascinating, and I found myself desiring their admirable skills and determination. I spent two years training under their guidance, specializing in reconnaissance and field study. Hmm, I suppose you could think of me as a combat-ready researcher meant to work under the most extreme of conditions.” As always and like all salarians, he spoke undeniably fast. Fast, but clear and comprehendible. 

            “So if you were with the STG, why did you leave?”

            The large black pupils surrounded by the deep green of Ralik's eyes fell to the floor, but only for a moment. A hesitation, likely meaning he wasn't proud about what he was about to say.

            “I was… honorably discharged.” He tapped his fingers together in a bit of nervousness. “Allow me to explain.”

            “I haven't made judgments, Ralik. Just tell me your story.” Kevin was never exactly good at being empathetic.

            “Right. Of course. You see, I have a rare mental condition, conveniently and casually explained by doctors as a 'chronic chemical abnormality'. Essentially, when other salarians can mentally prepare themselves and get things done ahead of time, I cannot. I…” He let out a quick sigh and finally gave in to finishing the explanation. “I hesitate. Not just a normal split second hesitation. It takes me far more time than almost any salarian to be prepared to do what needs to be done. Once I am _already in_ the situation I can function as normal as any other, but the problem for me comes before any action is taken.”

            “That's it?” Kevin stared at Ralik with more or less a look of disbelief. “That's why you were discharged from the STG? You're yanking me. Everybody hesitates.”

            “You clearly do not understand the rudimentary fundamentals of the Special Tasks Group, Kevin. We— _They_ specialize in taking care of situations long before they arise or escalate.” Ralik began to pace as he fervently explained. “They work without hesitation, taking care of dangerous scenarios long before the enemy even knows how to retaliate or defend themselves. It is because I take so long to get into the mental state of readiness to execute the plans set down that I was discharged. Taking care of business once everything has started is easy, I have no issues there. My problem is getting started, and that simply will not fit into the STG's agenda.”

            “I think I get it now. But wait, you didn't have any issue back on Illium,” Kevin argued, thinking back to the car chase.

            “Are you referring to the car chase or my infiltration of the Eclipse base?” Ralik inquired.

            “Well, both,” casually stated as he leaned back on the bed.

            “The Eclipse infiltration took me several weeks to prepare for. About one quarter of the time spent preparing was actual planning, information gathering, so on and so forth. The rest was… mental preparation. As for the car incident, I hardly had time to hesitate. Before I knew it, our cab driver was dead and you were shouting at me to take the controls. I was _already_ in the situation.”

            “I see. Alright, I get it.” It was now clear to Kevin why Ralik was discharged, and why for a salarian this could pose an issue. For a race that only lives for an average of forty years, any moment of uncontrolled hesitation is seen as a disability. Time to them was extremely precious, and hesitation was wasted time.

            “Your turn, Kevin.” Ralik sat back down on the bed with another sigh. This sigh was different from the others, however. It was more a sigh of relief from having gotten something so potentially embarrassing off of his shoulders.

            “Alright,” Kevin started, “where to begin. I suppose I could start with my biotics. The details about that are sketchy at best, I can hardly remember my younger days and I haven't plugged in my data storage yet.”

            “Data storage?”

            “I'll get to that as I explain.”

            Kevin began to explain his not-so-brief background to the salarian starting with his biotics; at least, as much as he could actively remember. He explained that even as a kid, his learning curve with biotics in comparison to other children was different. It ascended more sharply than the others. He was learning how to control his biotics faster than almost everyone else, and he ended up having 'special' attendants because of it. He vaguely remembered being placed in quarters in a different area of some facility, away from the other kids. He wasn't isolated, however. Kevin attended classes the same as anyone else, was treated the same as anyone else, and interacted the same as anyone else. He never actually discovered why he was separated while he was there.

            He was only at the facility for a few more years, until he was about sixteen. That's when he felt his first major headache—the kind that put him on the floor. He didn't even realize there were three attendants in his room until after the initial wave of pain was finished. It was at that point that his parents, who had been inexplicably absent for the past several years, decided to make a visit. He wasn't allowed into the room where his parents were talking to the staff, but there were raised voices and obvious heated disagreement. Eventually, the day ended with him packing his things and being taken off of Grissom Academy by his parents. It was only after he left that he was told that there were five other kids specifically separated like he was on different floors. He and his attendants in the years past had been noticing a slight bit of memory loss during Kevin's day to day. As a going away gift, Kevin's attendant had given him a flash data device with a couple petabytes worth of space on it in order for him to keep track of his own daily activities.

            Kevin's life with his parents, while he didn't bother to go into detail with this to Ralik, was a tough moment in his life. He had just started his teenage years with a mixed education of biotic ability, biotic society, and a plethora of typical academic studies. He was an only child, and as such his parents were having an increasingly difficult time adjusting to having a son in the house. It was clear they weren't used to being parents. They made him take memory enhancing supplements to counter his occasional memory loss. Academic wise, Kevin proceeded to attend non-biotic classes at a high school back on Earth, though he still worked on the biotic practices he learned in his previous school days when he could. He finished his classes there on the honor roll with scholarships in hand, ready to move on to post-graduate education.

            Kevin didn't want to attend more classes, however. He was more interested in life outside the colonies and the Local Cluster. At eighteen, he enrolled in the Alliance military. The training he took there lasted almost an entire year. After that, since he was listed as a biotic, he followed up into a brand new first-year military biotic training regimen for another year. This is where his past quick learning experiences with biotics paid off. By then, he was considered a natural at biotics. His skills weren't anything like they are now, but compared to the other biotics undergoing military training, he was listed as 'exceptional'. Kevin was old enough by this time to realize that this was due to the fact that he learned quicker than his peers at such a young age and not because he was necessarily better at biotics than anyone.

            There was also concern. The other biotics had 'readings' taken every so many days. They all acted as if having a needled stabbed into the back of their head was a normal, typical thing that they all had come to expect was part of biotic life. Kevin didn't ever remember having a needle stuck into the back of his head to take readings. Not once. For the first time, Kevin began to wonder if there was something wrong with him.

            Nevertheless, Kevin performed well in the training. About two months into the new training regimen, five more biotics were flown in from off-world: three female and two male. All of them were familiar to him, as well. These biotics all took classes in Grissom Academy like he did. He was reunited with his first real best friend, Xavier Toreles, and they served the remaining time of the biotic training together as squadmates. Even outside training they were inseparable.

            The training was tough. Their instructor was stone cold and was as rigid as they come. The results _had_ to be better than expected since this was essentially the Alliance Military's trial run with this newly developed regimen, so they put extra effort into making each of them the best biotic they could be. They were taught new biotic skills, like the ability to change the direction of ‘impact’ of certain biotic abilities using dark energy to repulse the fields they were creating. They called this technique 'curving', and though nothing was actually being curved, they were told to visualize their biotic throw or pull as though it curved to impact the target at a different angle rather than straight-on. This was particularly useful for reaching targets behind cover.

            Other advanced and experimental techniques were gaining popularity through this regimen as well, like enveloping oneself in a mass effect field to make movement extremely fast and effortless, nicknamed ‘Biotic Charge’. The more powerful biotics could produce waves of dark energy that had such force behind them that they were likened to a fully loaded freight train. And then there was the well known grand-daddy of biotics: The Singularity. This was a point in space where a powerful mass effect field was generated to create near infinite mass. Such a feat was exhausting and dangerous, both to the one creating the singularity as well as the people in the general area. Both the Charge and Singularity abilities were exclusive to different trainees, depending on the tweaks to their implants. Or so Kevin was told. He never had to deal with implant tweaking for some reason. Not to mention that he and a few of his flown-in friends could perform one or the other at will.

            Some biotics experienced a temporary amplifier shutdown after creating or attempting to create these spectacles of sheer biotic control, which usually resulted in instant mental exhaustion and, subsequently, a blackout. Their biotic amps were wired to automatically disable themselves if it was detected that there was either too much stress on the brain or nervous system, or if the amps were being overused. These safety protocols were regularly adjusted over the life of a biotic to match their body's specific tendencies and to greatly reduce the chance of this happening and maximize effectiveness, but even then they were still prone to the rare temporary shutdown if they pushed themselves too far. Biotics were still considered rare among the human race and every one was precious. Safety features were an integral step in keeping biotics from accidental dark energy suicide.

            After the announced success of the regimen, it was made standard for all military biotics, and the training was also adopted by tutors as well. Soon after the final ceremony, Kevin and the five biotics flown in from off-world were pulled aside and contacted by an unknown figure, claiming to be a spec ops military branch in need of extremely skilled biotics. The statement from the male was clear: they were now working for him. This extremely vague turn of events obviously didn't sit well with most of the six, though a couple were intrigued. Two agreed and the remaining declined to oblige. Those that turned the figure down were surprisingly let off without any hassle considering the demanding nature of the figure’s request. After that, everyone in the program went their separate ways, most off to varying starships to serve with the Alliance Fleet. Kevin and Xavier also went in different directions, though they kept in touch for a while

            Kevin only served with the Alliance for another year. He decided to leave after a nasty turn of events that he decidedly avoided in his debrief to Ralik. Following this, he moved from Terminus System to Terminus System, freelancing as a gun for hire. He picked up his title of 'assassin' when he found that a number of his deals to kill people fell upon moderately high value individuals. From batarian company CEOs to volus trademasters to ranking members of major gangs. Some of the people he was hired to take out were very, very specific people whose details Kevin intelligently withheld from the ex-STG member. This is about where Kevin decided to leave off, and there was a three minute silence before Ralik got up and stretched.

            “Sorry, Ralik,” Kevin apologized, “Didn't mean to give you the long version. Just been a while since I've had a chance to recap my winding past, I guess.”

            “No worries, Kevin. This gives me helpful insight into your past with which I can now exploit for my personal gain.”

            Kevin let out a dry, false laugh. “That's not even funny. I _know_ you know how to be dangerous with information.”

            “And yet you pour it out almost without restraint! Some key elements were left out, but I certainly have enough information now to-”

            Kevin suddenly cut Ralik short by grabbing his pistol from his waist and held it pointed at the salarian before it had even finished unfolding. “Looks like I slipped up,” he muttered with dire seriousness. “Gotta kill you now.”

            Ralik's first reaction was surprise and alarm, coupled with a sudden readiness to react quickly and with lethality—a product of STG training. That split second of emotion fell away as soon as he noticed a fatal flaw in Kevin's form.

            “The safety's on,” Ralik calmly stated with a small point to the error.

            Kevin's near-convincing guise fell away as he lowered the gun with a smile. “Yeah, I know. Had you going for a second there, though.” The pistol collapsed and was once again returned to the holster on his waist.

            “I wouldn't try that again. Never know what an ex-STG will do, yes?” Ralik waved one of three fingers of his right hand at the human in light-hearted chastisement.

            “Yeah yeah yeah. Anyways, now that we've exchanged friendly threats and shared our life stories, why not grab a bite to eat? I don't know what's in the mess as far as salarian cuisine, but I'm sure something can be worked out. Plus, if we have time I can give you a brief tour of the ship. A quick low-dose injection of medi-gel will take care of internal injuries in a snap.”

            “We already handled that, Kevin.” Ralik nodded before looking up to the ceiling. “Terra, please confirm the remaining time until we reach the Citadel.”

            A slight chime sounded before Terra's synthetic voice gave Ralik his answer. “Approximately two hours until we arrive at the Citadel, Ralik.”

            “Thank you,” Ralik quickly countered.

            “Did you just _thank_ a VI?” Kevin asked, humorously astounded.

            “It doesn't hurt to show a little manners, even in the presence of a program,” the salarian mocked. “Does it, Mr. Folner?”

            “God. I swear, if you start having conversations with it, I'm pulling the plug,” Kevin added while shaking his head. He went to give himself a quick injection, but stopped when Ralik’s amused comment rang in his head, causing him to put the second vial down before heading for exit of the med bay.

            “I do look forward to exploring the depth of Terra's interface programming,” Ralik said, continuing to play Kevin as he followed him out.

            “Okay, even from a salarian that's just wrong.”

 

            After the short meal consisting of rather luxurious rations and a tour of the ship, Ralik decided to resign to the engine room for the time being. He mentioned not having a chance to investigate a Tantalus drive core in person and wanted some time to observe its systems before they docked at the Citadel. Kevin decided to retreat to the comfortable confines of his quarters at the stern of the ship. He had plugged his data device into the terminal on the desk in the back of the room, as he wanted to upload some of his data to the ship for easier access. This data storage wasn’t the one he was given as a child, but he moved all that data to this one when he got it. Among the eighty-five terabytes worth of data being uploaded, he picked out a few directories that he had flagged as IMPORTANT at some point in the past that were set up so that they didn’t automatically upload to the ship’s internal databases. The comment for the files that were flagged read: 'These files contain info about my origins. Reference these when the memories fail again.'

            These files were a small mix of log entries, data recordings, and a single cipher-locked directory that he had tried to crack many times but was thus far incapable. The majority of the logs were audio recordings. The video that went with the recordings had gotten corrupted at some point during the transfer when he obtained it, but the audio was entirely salvageable. Kevin tilted his head as he played a random log over the master quarters sound emitters.

 

            “Log six.” A man with a mid-toned voice and slight accent of Irish descent spoke. “Time reference: only days away from the expected births of the test subjects. The road has been long, and the cost… unthinkable. Of the thirty-five original hosts, only eight have progressed through the dangerous initial exposure and subsequent destructive consequences and still remain considerably healthy. The twenty-seven others died in stillbirth from a staggering variety of mutations and health problems. The mothers of those that died either suffered irreversible genetic damage or died within the month. The staff of the project remains optimistic, however. The additional genetic modifications made to these subjects should make the individuals viable after birth. Unfortunately, the chance of critical system failure within each individual will remain treacherously high until their third year, at which point the chances of them seeing a full life increases by an estimated forty percent. At least by then their systems should completely adapt to the element zero deposits. How their nervous system handles these increased size deposits is one of the top research priorities. McRoilie out.”

 

            Kevin furrowed his brows. He knew that he had heard this report before, but he couldn't actually recall any of it, or how many times he had heard it before. There was a text document included in the files that had no significant title, but when opened it read: _Number of times these logs have been looked at (Increase by 1 each time you review these files): 23_. Kevin upped the number to twenty-four and closed the otherwise blank text document to continue onto the next audio file.

           

            “Log eight. Time reference: three months following the births of the project individuals. We were fortunate enough that the mothers of all eight subjects survived thus far. Unfortunately, two of the subjects had died only a week after birth. What we believe to be the cause was our own fault. The cause of death in those two subjects was internal brain damage, hemorrhaging, and eventual brain death. It seems some of the additional genetic code we had deployed did not develop properly in the fetus, and the brain was damaged extensively by the enhanced neurological state of the body.

            “Moving back to the more positive part of my report, the surviving subjects have been given names by their mothers, which they will carry with them even outside this facility once the introductory phase has completed. The six remaining subjects so far seem medically healthy, aside from excessive crying. We believe this to be a side effect from the modifications as their brain continues to adapt to the increase in neurological intensity. The rest of the team and I look forward to the next several years of research. McRoilie out.”

           

            Kevin sat back after the log finished and interlaced the fingers of his hands together behind his head. If there was one thing he didn't like about these logs, it was the fact that not a single one of them had any documented or mentioned date. Every log and data entry 'date' was a time reference relative to other entries, which made figuring out the full scale timeline downright frustrating. He looked at his clock and realized he only had time to listen to one more audio log before they were within the Serpent Nebula and only minutes away from the Citadel. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk and played another random log towards the end of the audio entries.

 

            “Log ninety-two. Time reference: Day Omega. Today is the final day that the children will be at our facility. From here, they will be given a measured dose of powerful amnesiac meds in order to disrupt any coalesced memories they might have created here. This should prevent any of the kids from mentioning this place or any of our staff, including the mothers. It is currently not known how this drug will affect their minds upon maturity, though we fully expect that the side effects, if any, will be absolutely minimal. Once the kids have been given the drugs and put to sleep, they will then be moved to the Alliance military and civilian joint effort called the Ascension Project. There they will continue to be monitored by a very select and careful staff, handpicked to assist with these particular individuals.

            A sigh is heard amongst the brief silence. “I… I am sad to see them go. Many of the staff, myself included, have grown somewhat attached to the children. We were warned about this attachment, but we know better to keep it in check lest we risk issue with the project lead. At the most, some tears will be shed at the conclusion of this project. The mothers will remain here on the facility for now for final study to see what effects the eezo exposure might have had since then. We are declaring the introductory phase of this project a triumph and a huge success. McRoilie out.”

 

            Kevin sighed, frustrated. He had looked into the Ascension Project in the past and he found that he did indeed get enrolled there as a child. This, however, was not enough to make any connection to anything before that. Unfortunately, almost all the files on the children who went there were rather classified, aside from academic transcripts. He still knew nothing. He didn't have a way to get those files, either. They were kept on heavily secured servers aboard the Grissom Academy, and he wasn’t exactly savvy enough to hack into fortified servers.

            “Mister Folner,” Terra's synthesized voice sounded, almost making him jump, “we are five minutes from the Citadel.”

            “Don't call me that,” he replied callously.

            “What would like this system to address you as?” Terra formally inquired.

            “Just call me…” Kevin had to stop and think about it for a second. Why was it so difficult for him to get used to a VI interacting with him? It was what they were programmed to do. After a slight pause, he finally acquiesced. “Just call me Kevin.”

            “Very well, Kevin.”

            Kevin shuddered a bit. That was going to take some getting used to. It was at this point that he remembered that he still had to make some 'adjustments' to the ship registration program to keep it from automatically sending out the registration changes. He quickly browsed his encrypted personal files archive and picked out a single basic-looking program. Upon running it, a small box appeared on his terminal with the words 'Scanning, please wait…' on it. They quickly reverted to a new box that had a lot of technical information on it scrolling by quickly. It only did this for around thirty seconds before the scrolling stopped and gave Kevin a chance to get a look at some data.

            Kevin was familiar with this software area by now; the only things that tended to change among human-built ships were certain flag locations and variables. Normally this area in the system would be completely inaccessible. Ships weren't even programmed to display this information, since the only people typically qualified to do anything in this area were the engineers who built or designed the ship. Kevin was one step ahead, though. The program he ran had the code to organize and display it in a useful manner. Once the internal firewalls were decrypted and temporarily disabled via a subtle programming loophole, Kevin was free to browse the most technically complex and dangerous area of the ship's systems: the kernel and system registry. Altering the wrong thing here could lead to an immediate ship lockdown due to run-time errors generated from erroneous values. Kevin had the simple task of changing only one boolean, though, and knew better than to mess with anything else. Once he navigated to where the boolean rested, he changed it from zero to one. This was the equivalent of 'Registry changes sent to the server', and changing the boolean to true ensured that the system _knew_ that the changes were already sent and did not need to be sent again. A classic example of an age old truth—if it’s digital, it can be cracked.

            Kevin cracked his knuckles and saved the changes. The program automatically altered the rollback version of the registry entry so that if the system ended up detecting the unauthorized change, the rollback version that it applied would be the very thing it hoped to remove. Satisfied that the deed was done, he closed down his program and kicked the rolling chair back.

            “Terra, I'm on my way to the bridge. Have the haptics up for me.”

            “Acknowledged.”

            Kevin stood from his chair and bent over the desk to close any and all files currently open on the terminal. His data had finished uploading to the ship's storage, so he grabbed his storage unit and dropped it into one of his higher up pockets. He only paused for a couple more seconds to take another brief look at the terminal before turning and heading out of his room.


	6. Chapter Five

### Chapter Five

            Ralik was already two steps ahead of Kevin, coming up the stairs from deck two to his left just ahead of him. He must have been alerted as well. By the time they both got to the bridge, the Citadel was already in their viewports. Kevin immediately took the foremost seat and quickly urged Ralik to sit. “Might want to grab a seat, Ralik. I can't dock a frigate to save my life.”

            Ralik nodded and took the seat behind and to the right of Kevin's. “As long as we avoid skyscrapers, I believe we will be fine.” The salarian ended the sentence with a sly smile.

            “You're just _full_ of good humor today, aren't you?” Kevin asked, only slightly miffed.

            “Keeping a cheerful atmosphere relieves stress on the mind, don't you think?”

            “Is that your way of saying you have a coping mechanism?” Kevin chuckled.

            “Perhaps…” Ralik's decisions of when to be stark and when to be enigmatic seemed either random or well-planned, though it was impossible to tell which.

            Kevin opened the local docking channel and hailed the traffic agents on the Citadel. “This is the Kellius, requesting permission to dock.”

            “Welcome back, Kellius,” was the oddly lighthearted turian's reply. “Will you be staying at your private dock today?”

            Kevin thought for a second. A private dock meant an expensive, well maintained area with plenty of guards around, maybe even a greeting party. Additionally, the fact that they knew the ship by name meant that Linus visited the Citadel often, and people at that private dock would be expecting _him_ to step off the ship. They did not want that kind of exposure.

            “No thanks. I've got some business to do in the wards today, and I need a dock away from my usual. Got anything in the Kithoi Wards?” Kevin clenched his teeth, hoping this wouldn't be too unusual a request.

            “We do. Upper Kithoi Wards, dock C forty-seven. Will you need a security escort? We have several C-Sec officers standing by.”

            “You guys are off the hook today, I have my own escort. Thanks for the offer though. Kellius out.” Kevin was about to lean back when he realized the channel had not been cut yet.

            “Aren't you going to need an approach vector, Kellius?” The turian's cheery voice now sounded suspicious, and a tad worried.

            “My pilot has it covered.” Kevin clenched his teeth once more, this time coupled with a fervent look of troubled failure on his face.

            “Uh… Negative, Kellius. Kithoi is currently in a state of high travel traffic. Approach vectors are mandatory. Sending it now. Have a nice stay, Kellius.” Soon after, the docking channel was cut. The docking agent was too busy to deal with that any longer than he already had.

            “I suppose I should have said yes,” Kevin reasoned as he brought the ship around to head towards the long arm of the Citadel known as the Kithoi Wards.

            “Why _didn't_ you say yes?” Ralik questioned, looking at Kevin in disbelief.

            “I don't even know how to apply an approach vector for a frigate, Ralik. I just know basic piloting. I've never had to deal with that crap while flying a shuttle.”

            Ralik brought an open palm to his long face and laughed. “Well, you've managed to wing it this far, let's see how you do here, yes? Also, when did you acquire a private dock? That's no small expense.”

            “It's a long, complicated story that I really have no desire to repeat. Again.” Kevin had no idea if Ralik was going to leave once he found his brother, so there really was no need for him to reveal that the Kellius was technically stolen.

            “Alright, alright,” Ralik gave in, hands up in front of him. “I'll simply have to ask later.”

            “Is it just me, or are you actually enjoying pushing my buttons?” Kevin asked, not looking away from the screens and viewports as he descended to the location of dock forty-seven.

            “I have no idea what you are referring to.” A convenient dodge.

            Kevin simply gave up, as he had more of a need to concentrate on docking the frigate. As the neared the dock, Kevin could clearly make out the hexagonal 'clearing' known as the famous Edroki Plaza. Kevin had a lot of memories of there from when he first visited the Citadel after leaving the Alliance. Some he wished to forget, and others he cherished. An all around mix, really. He certainly planned to visit the plaza again while he was here. If his memory served, Tarsil spent a lot of time in the plaza doing a myriad of things. Most of those things involved money and clandestine transactions. It wasn't black market, not really. The items that he dealt with would be flagged if they passed through C-Sec, but Tarsil knew ways around that. His clients needed to move otherwise flagged items through to people on or going through the Citadel, but in the Edroki Plaza, he was an information broker first and foremost.

            As they lowered, the hustle and bustle typical of any upper wards arm could be seen coming into view. The dock they were assigned was just outside of the maintained atmosphere, so they would not be going all the way down. To Kevin's relief the docks on Kithoi, or at the very least _this_ dock, was still pretty low-key with only a typical C-Sec docking guard. It was rather unlikely that any of them knew the Kellius. The docking procedure here was a bit easier, due to quite a bit more free space to give room for error. This didn't mean that the process was without bumps, however. Kevin's abilities ensured that. Even still, the ship was docked without any serious incident.

            As they left the Kellius, one of the armed C-Sec guards came out to meet them. There wasn't any need for alarm as the gun was still holstered. It was obvious the turian coming out to meet them wasn't looking for a fight or arrest.

            “Bad news,” the turian started. “Your ship's been flagged for investigation.”

            “What?” Kevin asked, surprised. “Why?”

            “Apparently the law enforcement on Illium has you wanted for arrest,” the officer explained.

            “Figured that might come back to bite us,” Ralik stated regretfully.

            “It doesn't say what for, so you guys are still cleared to roam this ward. Thing is, your ship'll be locked down until an envoy from the Illium police force can get here and take a look for themselves. It's out of our jurisdiction, so we won't be touching it. Don't worry, we respect people's privacy and all that PR talk. Just don't give us a reason to, hear me?”

            “Duly noted, officer,” Kevin assured. “Don't worry, that's all a misunderstanding and I certainly don't plan on causing trouble on the Citadel.”

            “See that you don't. I've got enough crap to deal with. Anyway, the Illium police force said their envoy is held up in some recent issues in Nos Astra, so it might be a couple days before they arrive. Have a nice day.” The C-Sec officer then turned around to leave and headed back into the guard station.

            When the officer left, Kevin and Ralik simply continued on their way rather unfazed towards the docking elevator that would take them to the surface of the upper wards. This particular area wasn't very busy. Most of the vehicles coming and going were part of the Rapid Transit system the Citadel used, and anything bigger than that tended to be mid-sized frigates carrying supplies. There were less big name stores on this ward, so traffic wasn't as intense as Zakera.

            Just outside the guard station was a Rapid Transit terminal. Kevin activated it and chose the Rapid Transit station closest to the Edroki Plaza, where they hoped to find Tarsil. Not more than a few seconds later, a small automated shuttle quickly pulled up and opened for the users to sit inside. The following trip to the next station was quick, albeit quiet. Ralik apparently had no ill-timed words of wisdom or button-pushing witty comments. Once they pulled up to the destination the shuttle opened and they both stepped out to a metallic platform overlooking the majority of the surface of Kithoi's upper wards.

            The Edroki Plaza was one of the most popular areas on all of Kithoi Ward. It was a giant square of surface area on the upper wards devoid of skyscrapers and large buildings of any kind. The center most area of the square, taking up roughly half the free space is a green area. Trees, soft grass, benches and even a flowing creek are in this park-like zone, meant entirely for the relaxing enjoyment of the citizens of the Citadel. A few species of the more pleasant wildlife from various planets resided here, helping create a natural and serene ambiance not easily found on the static atmosphere of the grand space station.

            Just outside this green zone was a cacophony of things to see. High-tech tents of traveling merchants setting up shop as close to the legal commerce border of the green zone as possible, all manner of species walking to and fro, some shopping the daily rotated wares and some enjoying personal hobbies, and various people were playing strange and alien forms of amateur sports games like biotiball, others elected to show off hobbies such as personal skills and collections.

            Beyond this area, known as the 'Ring of Edroki', was the outer plaza. This area, which extended to the very outside edge of the square, was where a lot of more permanent buildings resided. These buildings were rented out on a standard galactic weekly basis to small shopkeepers looking to sell wares with a bit more chronological stability than the ones within the Ring who are in and out within one to two galactic days. This area tended to be the busiest, as the majority of the cheaper shops on the Kithoi wards were here.

            Standing on a ledge next to a set of stairs heading down between tall shop buildings and to the plaza, Kevin could see the large Taralos Amphitheater building in the distance, sparkling in the ambient light of the surrounding wards and the Serpent Nebula about half-way between the plaza and the outer tip. There were a number of large, brightly colored lights orbiting the top of the structure, indicating a production was about to be experienced. A glance behind him reminded him of just how large the wards actually were. Even when overlooking the plaza and all the wards beyond that to the pointed end, he was really only about half way to the elevators linking the wards to the presidium. He could only barely make out the massive and uniquely shaped structure where the Council Central Archives were housed. Whenever Kevin traveled to the plaza, he always took a moment to take in the sight. Since the Edroki Plaza was more or less smack dab in the middle of Kithoi, this busy Rapid Transit Station was raised considerably and had one of the most impressive views of the wards. The only place more scenic than this was Kithoi point at the far tip.

            “Uh, Kevin, are you coming?” Ralik asked, effectively pulling Kevin from his moment. The salarian was already partly down the stairs. He seemed anxious and in a hurry to see his brother.

            “Yeah, coming,” was his distracted reply.

            The further down the stairs they went, the louder the ambient noise became. It was in the middle of the galactic standard day here and the plaza was already pretty busy. Kevin began to wonder just how long it would take them to find Tarsil. Edroki Plaza wasn't small by any means. The glow of shop-mounted signs attempting to catch the eye of passersby and lure them in bathed the outer edge in a vast array of colors. Down the row to their right, Ralik spied a building with a large blue-hued sign for information. Deciding not to speak above the, Ralik nudged Kevin and pointed to the building. Kevin nodded, thinking the information kiosk Tarsil rented out was certainly a good place to start. Fortunately for Kevin and Ralik, the large crowds here were fairly loosely packed. They had no trouble weaving through the flowing groups of shoppers and strolling individuals. Within a matter of five minutes they had reached the information kiosk building and stepped inside.

            The moment the door shut behind them, two salarians from across the lobby walked around from behind a counter and approached Kevin and Ralik rather quickly. Armed. Kevin quickly identified the weapons as turian-issued pistols. Kevin, rather familiar with situations like this, casually put his hands into the air.

            “Alright, we surrender,” he said in mocking disinterest. Ralik went to speak, but he was cut off before so much as a word was spoken.

            “You know the rules. No protection services are allowed here.” It seemed as though they were speaking to Ralik. Kevin took a second to think before he realized that Ralik was still in his Eclipse hardsuit and he was without his. After casting a glance to his salarian shipmate, he had found that Ralik already realized what they were referring to. Kevin tried to talk them down, as he was caught a little off-guard that they had weapons aboard the Citadel.

            “Now hold on just a-” He was cut off by the same salarian that spoke before. They weren't having any of it.

            “Stop talking and just get out, or we'll have to drop you and turn you over to C-Sec for harassing merchants.”

            Kevin and Ralik simply looked at each other and cautiously turned around to walk out. As soon as they approached the door and hit the access panel, it slid open revealing a salarian prepared for an ugly situation with a full combat suit and helmet who immediately shoved a pistol in Kevin's face. Big mistake.

            The split second that the realization of a firearm was that close to his person, Kevin's reflexes took over. His right hand quickly came up and grabbed the end of the pistol and twisted it jarringly to the side, pointing the barrel away from his face ripping it from the unsuspecting salarian's hand. A quick follow-up kick to the abdomen in just the right place laid out the offending salarian in the doorway with a loud grunt. Lastly, Kevin spun slightly to point his newly acquired weapon at the two merchants. As he aimed down the sight of his pistol, he quickly discovered that it was bent horribly out of shape—namely in the shape of a human hand that had gripped it from the barrel end. He turned the 'gun' to the side a bit to get a better look at it. Now that it was deformed, he could tell it wasn't a real gun at all and more like a cheap recreation meant to _look_ like a gun. Was he just fooled? Taken from his focus by a slight fit of confusion, he heard Ralik shouting at him from behind.

            “Kevin, stop! Really, just take a breath.” Ralik's tone indicated that he was a bit peeved at Kevin's immediate reaction. Kevin turned around once again to see Ralik helping the salarian he kicked up from the floor.

            “Does someone want to explain to me what the crap is going on?” Kevin asked to all in the room.

            “Augh,” the now standing salarian grunted, “No no, it's our fault. I should have known better and sent word ahead.” He wavered as he went to stand on his own, still wheezing from the kick. “That was a heck of a kick, Kevin. Just at the right place to knock the wind out of me even through my hardsuit. Wouldn't expect any less from _you_.”

            It was only now that it dinged in Kevin's head who was talking to.

            “Tarsil? Are you freaking kidding me? What's with the setup?” Kevin was both relieved and irritated at the same time.

            “It's called scenario preparation, Kevin,” Tarsil lightheartedly informed as he gingerly removed the helmet. “We saw someone in an Eclipse uniform walk into our information booth. You know our policy, Kevin, 'No gang members allowed'.”

            Kevin placed a hand on his face. He had totally forgotten that Ralik was still wearing the Eclipse suit when they walked in. “Oh good Lord. I'm an idiot. But what's up with the guns? Clearly these aren't real.”

            Tarsil chuckled. “Well, as you know, guns aren't permitted on the Citadel. C-Sec gives us shop owners here on Kithoi these phasic tranquilizer pistols in case someone does try to shake us down before the guards can get here. A preventative measure, see? Though…” Tarsil took the deformed handgun from Kevin and gave it a sidelong glance. “It appears their construction leaves much to be desired.”

            “I suppose that makes me feel a bit better,” Kevin said, relieved.

            “What do you mean?” asked Ralik.

            “The two desk clerks. I didn't recognize them. I thought someone got a hold of your shop, or C-Sec ran you out.”

            “That's because you've never met them before,” Tarsil confirmed as he made a brief—and belated—realization. “Which also explains why they didn't recognize either of you as well. That said, allow me to make the introductions. Kevin, Ralik, these are our two new recruits, Jolaar and Deramus. Jolaar, Deramus, this is my brother Ralik, and this is my good friend Kevin. One _is_ family and one is _like_ family, are we clear?”

            The two new clerks nodded without hesitation to Tarsil, then sent some awkward but understanding waves and gestures of greeting towards Kevin and Ralik. Kevin and Ralik both returned the gestures, equally as understanding and equally as awkward.

            Tarsil pressed to move on. “Now then. Since formalities are out of the way, why don't we take our conversation to the back of the store?” Tarsil was already on his way around the counter by then.

            “Right behind you,” Kevin said eagerly as he followed Tarsil around.

            “As am I,” Ralik said, doing likewise.

            The two clerks resumed their positions behind the counter, waiting for customers to enter as Tarsil, Kevin, and Ralik went through the thick metal door behind them. They seemed to briefly eye the two 'newcomers' before the door shut completely. Once the door was shut, the room inside was pitch black.

            “Lights on,” Tarsil casually demanded to the darkness. Within the second, the lights of the back room came on and blanketed the place in a soft bluish white light. Now revealed was a spacey room centered by a transparent table and soft chairs. Further to the back was yet another door, which Kevin knew was their communications outlet. The left side of the room was lined with terminals of varying configuration and database servers along with some typical office-type locked drawers for holding physical documents. The right side of the room was more amenity-driven. Food and drink storage, vid screens, a set of comfy laid back chairs, and a salarian-originated table-top game that Kevin could never pronounce correctly were comfortably spread out over that entire side.

            “Please, have a seat,” Tarsil suggested, waving a hand at the table and surrounding chairs as he headed towards the food storage.

            “I see you fixed the place up nice, Tarsil,” Kevin mentioned, impressed as he took a chair. “Looks less like a batarian info-mining bunker.”

            “It looked like _what_ before?” Ralik asked with a chuckle.

            “Hah. Yes, the place definitely needed what you humans call a 'face lift',” Tarsil added while tossing Kevin and Ralik sealed bubbly drinks. “There's a lot more functionality now. More organized. Efficient.”

            “That's good. It also looks like cybersecurity is on the up and up.” Kevin popped the seal on his beverage and started to chug, stopping only so that he wouldn't down it all in one shot.

            “Of course,” Tarsil said confidently. “Information's becoming a lucrative, but dangerous business. I can't quite compete with the Shadow Broker on any level, but I'm already pulling in some very interesting tidbits thanks to our mutual friends. Some of these tidbits even the Shadow Broker sent agents to buy.”

            Everyone nodded, acknowledging the accomplishment that Tarsil had achieved. Anything the Shadow Broker deemed worthy of purchase was definitely information worth selling. Then there was a lasting silence. Awkward, like the kind you have after meeting a family member for the first time in a long while and not knowing what to talk about. It prevailed for maybe a minute and a half before Tarsil broke the silent streak with a legitimate question.

            “So… Ralik. Did you go join those Eclipse scum while I wasn't looking or are just trying to get yourself arrested and-or shot?”

            Ralik's immediate reaction was surprise, but that only lasted a fraction of a second. He sipped the last of his drink and sat forward, placing the container on the table. “Oh, you mean my suit. Let's just say it was a necessary acquisition for my infiltration into one of their HQs on Illium.”

            Tarsil laughed quite heartily.

            “So _you're_ the one that stirred up the nest?” he asked while taking a seat. “That's just about the best thing I've heard all week.” The grin on his face was priceless.

            “Why is this so hilarious?” Ralik asked, rather curious and marginally irritated at the implications.

            “Well, let me put it to you this way. The _last_ person I expected to make interplanetary underground wanted boards by infiltrating a well-established gang stronghold and stealing experimental technology was my very own Ralik Dolannus! Ha! Finally putting that old STG training to work, I see!”

            “Wanted boards? That does not sound healthy. How worried should I be?”

            Kevin cracked a smile. He knew what was about to be said.

            “Normally? Only somewhat. One salarian in the galaxy is generally difficult to track down; especially since you left the planet on a ship they don't have tabs on. So really they don't know where you are or who you are.”

            “That's a relie--” Ralik was cut off by the rest of Tarsil's explanation.

            “But they know him,” he stated, flicking a finger towards Kevin. “They've got more than a grudge against this guy. According to some data I mined a few days back, they've spent almost a million credits faction-wide trying to track and bring Kevin down.”

            “ _Almost_ a million? Wow, I'm _almost_ proud of myself,” Kevin sarcastically and lightheartedly blurted out just before he leaned back and interlaced his fingers behind his head.

            “And since they've seen you with him, you're quickly gaining yourself a bounty as well,” Tarsil finished with a humor-driven smile.

            “Great. This means bounty hunters. Leave it to Kevin to keep things interesting for me,” Ralik mused, only mildly depressed.

            “Hah. You don't know that half of it, Ralik,” Tarsil continued. “The longer you hang around him, the more 'interesting' things get.” He leaned back in his chair and began to rock it back and forth ever so slightly. “Now this explains why the Eclipse are after you,” he thought aloud while pointing to Ralik, “but this doesn't explain why the Illium authorities are after _you,_ ” he continued as his pointing finger slowly shifted accusingly from Ralik to Kevin.

            “What, me? Come on, I'm a do-right guy. Just helping a local salarian out of a bind.”

            “A do-right guy that gets lockdown orders,” Tarsil chuckled. “You know me, Kevin. I'm just interested in the story, I don't judge. Gives me something to tell the guys down at the bar.”

            “It _may_ have something to do with disruption of traffic, firing weapons in the travel lanes… Oh, and the hole in the side of the hangar building probably made news, too. I did all that just getting your family here away from the 'Eclipse Scum'.”

            “I didn't have a ship,” was Ralik's simple side of the story. “Apparently, Eclipse mercenaries can mobilize much faster now then anytime we faced them in the STG.”

            “You live and you learn, right Kevin?” Tarsil said while lifting his drink to Kevin.

            “Or you forget and you burn,” Kevin finished, raising his empty canister to the toasting salarian.

            “Which reminds me!” Tarsil suddenly jumped out of his seat not having even drunk to that little toast he just announced. “Come with me. You guys will want to see this.” He then swiftly moved off to the side of the room where the wall was lined with terminals.

            “This should be good,” Kevin said, smirking. “Tarsil doesn't get this excited over much of anything anymore, the little buzzkill.” He and Ralik also stood from their seats and moved to the terminals with the now sitting Tarsil. “Whatcha got?”

            “Apparently, there was a combined effort between the salarian, turian, and alliance military to send stealthed probes out deep into geth space in order to gain more intelligence on what potential threats are still out there. Even though the geth aren't much of a threat right now, that could change if they find a lot more geth out there gathering their forces together. Anyways…”

            “Breathe, Tarsil.” Ralik laughed and patted his brother on the shoulders.

            “Right, right. Yes. One of the probes found something of particular importance. Out in what is currently known as the An'Ramini Expanse, an area beyond the Far Rim relay towards the very edge of the galaxy, the probe picked up an unusually large concentration of geth forces. With a stealthed probe fly-by, it scanned everything it could.”

            “Alright, so there are more geth out towards dark space. How is that surprising?” Kevin was mildly disappointed. He was hoping for something far more interesting on the galactic scale. This only meant there would be very long deep space trips in uncomfortable warships into the An'Ramini Expanse to wipe out the geth before they could organize another attack. He was glad he wasn't still in the military.

            “Ah but it gets better. When the probe flew by, it picked up some interesting things, like new geth ship designs, undocumented, but strip-mined planets and… something else.” Tarsil hit a few buttons on the terminal and navigated to a collection of images. He expanded one of them to show on the wall-sized screen so everyone could see.

            “It's a mass relay,” Kevin stated, disinterested.

            “Let me finish!” Tarsil shouted. “I did some digging to see if this relay had ever been documented before, and it has. For the most part, the An'Ramini Expanse is unexplored. The quarians that discovered it never bothered with a place so close to the edge of the galaxy. That was almost four hundred years ago. Some time just before the geth uprising, a group of salarians traveled out that way with exploration in mind. They found that relay there and named it the Melkanis Relay, likely after one of the crew that helped discover it.”

            “You're boring me with history, Tarsil. You _are_ going somewhere with this, right?” Kevin immediately felt the hand of a salarian hit his arm, but it wasn't Tarsil's.

            “He said let him finish,” Ralik ordered.

            “Fine, geez.”

            Tarsil finally continued. “Try as they might, the salarian group could not get the relay to activate, as if it was permanently shut down or incapacitated. Apparently there were one or two other groups that tried, and no one could get the relay to activate. It was soon declared as a 'dead' relay and no one bothered to place it on star maps.”

            “But…” Kevin started, placing a hand on his chin. “That one's active. That's the Melkanis relay?”

            “Precisely. But that's only half the reason I'm so thrilled over all this.”

            “Can I ask one question before we get to that?” Ralik asked, stopping the explanation and leaning back with his arms folded. “If this is a military effort, how are we reading this? I expect this is highly classified information.”

            “And so,” Tarsil smugly began with a slow hand gesture, “we move onto the other half. Someone in one of those three military groups leaked this information out on the extranet. It was only out there for a short while before its source server was cut off and the data deleted. I’ll give you one guess as to who got full copies of all this information.”

            “Tarsil you sneaky son of a gun. You stole leaked military info.” Kevin patted Tarsil on the back with a smile. “Know if anyone else got it?”

            “As far as I can tell, there were only two other active connections to that server while I was coping the data. Like mine, those were killed when the server was shutdown to delete the sensitive data.”

            Ralik nodded. “So what you're saying is… You have an extremely rare and valuable piece of information that all sorts of factions will want to get their grubby hands on.”

            “We're going to make a fortune, brother.”

            “Unless the shadow broker has it and is already selling it out.” Kevin always was the buzzkill.

            “That's where you are wrong, Mr. Folner,” Tarsil countered, waving a finger in confidence. “I've already had two offers from shadow broker agents. It seems the shadow broker knows about it, but doesn't know _about_ it. It also shows just what kind of competition we're becoming. An ominous, yet welcoming thought, yes?”

            “Hmm.” Ralik was clearly lost in thought, having been stuck in the same thought-churning pose for several minutes now. “I'm more interested in the relay. Did you see the direction it was pointed in? It only had one rail out, pointed towards dark space.”

            “Maybe there's a small cluster of stars out there or something,” Kevin guessed. “Whatever it is, the geth have taken a liking to it, and that makes my gut turn.” There was a brief pause at such a thought.

            “I bet finding out would make for one heck of a discovery,” Ralik nodded, curiosity rising.

            “And I bet that discovery would be worth an insurmountable number of credits,” Tarsil added.

            “Now now, let's not get greedy. This information alone will get you enough credits to live comfortably without working for years. Though I have to admit, I'd like to know what's out there. Something even the Citadel Archives doesn't have information on yet.” Even Kevin's curiosity could not be kept under wraps.

            “Kevin you have a new ship, why don't you go find out?” Tarsil turned his chair away from the terminal to face the other two. He couldn't resist the sudden and rather convenient opportunity.

            “Well the Kellius is fast, but I don't know. Flying right into all those geth seems like a pretty stupid idea. She's got no dogfight weapons, only a spine-mounted one. Plus it looks like a long trip. How far away is the An'Ramini Expanse anyways?”

            Tarsil spun back around to find that out on the terminal. “According to these documents... At least a few days worth of FTL travel from the Far Rim relay. There are some planets marked out on the map that make excellent discharge locations.”

            “That's all well and good, but I don't have the fuel or the supplies to make that long of a trip.”

            Tarsil smirked. “That's an easy fix. I can have some supplies and gratuitous amounts of extra fuel 'accidentally' redirected to your ship.”

            “Great. And I suppose the next thing you're going to tell me is that you can cancel the lockdown on my ship,” Kevin knew full well that Tarsil was capable of such a feat.

            “Kevin, who are you talking to?” Tarsil asked with another smirk. “Here, I'll even make it worth your while. One hundred thousand credits for the delivery of information regarding exactly what is on the other side of that relay. That way we can split it three ways.”

            Kevin's barriers on this subject came crumbling down. That was a _lot_ of credits for one job. “Yeah, yeah. Alright, I'll give it a try. But if those geth give me trouble, I'm turning around, got it? Assuming I _can_ turn around by then.” Kevin chuckled and walked back towards the table. Meanwhile, Ralik finally snapped out of his deep thought.

            “Wait, what? You're going to try and pass the relay? With all those geth? In that _tin can_?”

            “Yeah, no thanks to your brother and all his throwing money in my face,” Kevin said with a flick of the thumb.

            “Then I'm going with. I'm a field scientist, after all. What better chance to study the unknown than to fly right into it? Ah, ignoring black holes of course.” Ralik's excitement was similar to Tarsil's. Fitting, since they were brothers.

            “It is settled then,” Tarsil declared with a single clap of his hands. “I'll get you supplies and you'll explore the unknown. Bring back some neat data and we all win. Bring a game with you, though. That'll be a long, quiet trip.”

            “Beh. I'll figure it out tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm going to hit the sack back on the Kellius.”

            “Sounds good,” Tarsil mentioned, tapping away at his terminal, “I'll need a few hours before the supplies can be delivered anyways.”

            Ralik finally relaxed his stance. “I'm going to stay here and help Tarsil with whatever needs to be done, Kevin. We have plenty of catching up to do anyways.”

            “You say that as if I'm looking forward to such conversations, brother,” Tarsil sarcastically noted. When Ralik looked to him in disgust, Tarsil pointed at him in a 'got you!' style and they both laughed.

            “Try not to kill each other, alright? I wouldn't look forward to doing this all by my lonesome.” Kevin said lightheartedly, nearing the exit.

            “Lonesome?” Ralik shouted back. “What about your alluring female companion? She's going as well!”

            “Female companion?” Kevin had to stop and think. He was pretty sure there wasn't anyone else on the ship. And then it hit him. Ralik was talking about Terra. “Die in a fire, Ralik!” he yelled back, not exactly angry. “I'll see you later.”

            After a quick wave from the brothers, he finally pushed through the metal door back to the information broker lobby. Upon shutting the door behind him, he was greeted by the staring eyes of the two desk clerks who probably heard him yelling back at Ralik. He put one hand up as he walked around the desk and towards the exit.

            “Just… Don't ask.”

            Once outside, Kevin drew in a lung full of not-quite-as-artificially-refreshed air. He let it out in a long slow exhale as he stared into the moving masses of aliens and human alike all about the Edroki Plaza. He had the strangely distinct feeling that things were going to get ugly on the trip, and not with Ralik. Still, such things never deterred him in the past and they certainly wouldn't now, not with so many interesting things about to play out. For now, though, Kevin decided to worry about the prep tomorrow after some shut-eye. Turning left, he began to make his uneventful way back to his ship, and eventually, his oversized bed.


	7. Chapter Six

### Chapter Six

            By the time Terra informed Kevin that Ralik had returned to the ship, he had already woken up, dressed himself, and checked some data on his storage device. He considered putting on a hardsuit, but he decided he'd rather stay comfortable in a regular outfit this time since there was really no need. He grabbed his pistol as usual and clipped it onto his belt before leaving. He spared no time in making his way out to the briefing room where he expected to meet Ralik. If Ralik had returned, it meant that the preparations were ready to be finished up. He stepped up to one of the two doors that separated the hallway from the briefing room and paused only for a second while he waited for the automatic door to slide its halves into the ceiling and floor. Inside, he found Ralik leaning against the briefing table.

            “Enjoy your slothful shut-eye, Kevin?” Snappy as always.

            “Probably about as much as you enjoyed the ridiculous catch-up session you and Tarsil no doubt had,” Kevin remarked. Before Ralik could counter his rebuttal, however, Kevin went right to business. “I take it Tarsil's efforts were successful?”

            Ralik nodded and ceased his casual lean against the table.

            “Indeed. The lockdown should be cancelled, and from what I can tell a large order of… Well, a lot of things are sitting outside the docking ramp, waiting for us to lower it so the mechs can get it all on the ship.”

            Kevin nodded, visibly pleased with how efficient Tarsil worked. He stepped over to one of the terminals lining the port side of the neck of the ship, slipped on a haptic interface glove and tapped a few things on the holo-screen.

            “There. Ramp's lowering. We're sure all that stuff is actually what we need, right? No bombs or tracking devices or the like, right?” Kevin asked, not even looking at Ralik. He was too busy watching the video feed of the cargo bay with several mechs loading large crates onto the ship.

            “This is Tarsil we're talking about,” Ralik responded with a confident tone. “You know him almost as well as I do. There won't be any problems.”

            “Yeah, I suppose you're right. Though I wouldn’t put it passed him to toss in a collection of ‘keep you company on your long, lonely trip’ porn vids…”

            The mechs continued to load the abundance of cargo onto the ship in a very organized fashion, laying each crate out in groups separated by type along the walls of the cargo bay. It took them about thirty minutes just to finish bringing all the crates aboard. When the task was finished, the mechs all filed out of the ship and returned to whatever they were doing before they were required to load cargo. With that taken care of, Kevin tapped a few more times on the haptic screen and the loading ramp closed with a low hum and a brief crack. Now it was time to get the trip under way.

            Kevin and Ralik both turned to head to the bridge. They arrived to see a bright red icon hovering over the Kellius' main controls, indicating that the lockdown was in effect. Kevin was not pleased about this sudden change in Tarsil's efficiency.

            “Ralik, what gives? I thought you said it would have been taken care of already.”

            “I--” The salarian was suddenly cut off by a convenient message delivered in classic Terra fashion.

            “Kevin, there is an incoming transmission from an unknown sender.”

            “Patch it through to the co– the bridge, Terra,” Kevin ordered, having guessed it was his salarian buddy.

            “I see the mechs have completed their job.” It was Tarsil, just as expected.

            “Hey Tarsil,” Kevin started, “why are we still locked down here?”

            “All in good time, my friend. Wouldn't want C-Sec discovering an unauthorized lockdown cancellation coming from their terminal while you were napping, would we?”

            Ralik cracked a chuckle at Kevin's temporary thick-headedness, which resulted in a light slap across the back of his horned head.

            “Right,” the human acknowledged.

            “It should be unlocking now. Hurry hurry, it won't take them long to see that you somehow evaded a lockdown order.”

            “That's my boy,” Kevin said with a smile as he watched the red icon fade to green. “Terra, get the engines running and prepare the ship to disembark.”

            “Acknowledged. Engines coming online. Mass effect drive core coming online. Disengaging airlock and docking clamps.”

            A small, but noticeable jolt was felt as the Kellius came free of the docking clamps and began to float backwards toward open space.

            “Awaiting destination data or pilot input,” Terra formally concluded, indicating her immediate task had since finished.

            “See you when we return, brother,” Ralik excitedly said, bidding farewell to his kin.

            “Stay out of trouble until we get back, alright? And thanks for all the junk now in my trunk.”

            “I worry more about when you do actually return,” Tarsil prodded. “Should be exciting, yes? Anywho, don't thank me for the supplies, Kevin. You're also doing me a huge favor. Good luck out in the An'Ramini Expanse, and watch out for geth patrols. Tarsil out.” With that, the communication channel was severed.

            Kevin seized the moment to pat his new shipmate on the back and walk away from the bridge towards the briefing room. “You're driving.”

            Surprised, Ralik quickly turned to look back and forth between Kevin and the helm which he had just abandoned before the ship was even finished disembarking. What was he thinking? They could smash into the side of the hangar!

            “Uh, shouldn't you— The ship— We need— Kevin!” Frustrated at being forced into piloting a frigate, Ralik grumbled unmentionable things about that conniving human before cautiously taking the forward pilot seat and manning the controls of the Kellius. Just what Kevin was hoping for.

            Meanwhile, Kevin took one of the many seats surrounding the holographic-enabled briefing table and kicked his boots up. He noted they had not hit anything yet. It seemed Ralik was better at piloting frigate sized ships than he let on. He figured as much ever since hearing that his shipmate had spent quite some time with the Special Tasks Group.

            By now they were well outside the hangar and on their way to the first of several mass relays that would bring them to the Far Rim star system.

            “See Ralik? You're a natural. Looks like you just inherited a share of pilot duty.”

            Ralik wasn't as peeved as Kevin was hoping for, though. “I figured it might come to light that I could pilot a frigate sooner or later. I was simply hoping for later. Note, though: while I _can_ indeed fly a frigate, I am no match for a seasoned or fully trained pilot in terms of skill.”

            “Yeah, I get it. I know how it is, trust me,” Kevin mentioned, brushing it off as an excuse.

            “Alright, we're out of the Citadel's immediate area.”

            “Terra,” Kevin shouted, calling for his surprisingly useful VI, “plot a course for the Far Rim system.”

            “Alert. I do not have sufficient existing data to plot a course to the Far Rim star system. There are no trade routes to that star system due to significant geth presence.”

            “Well doesn't that figure,” Kevin grumbled. “I was starting to think you were actually useful.” Kevin brought up the galaxy map on one of the two terminals on the port side of the neck of the ship. With a haptic adaptive interface glove still on his hand, he pointed out Far Rim system and determined which mass relays they would have to hit along the way. With that set, he called on Terra once again.

            “Terra, plot a course following the waypoints I configured on the map.”

            “Acknowledged. Course plotted. We are approaching the first mass relay. Setting approach vectors now.”

            Kevin and Ralik could feel the ship change configuration slightly through a small vibration in the floor. Kevin knew what was going on. It was typical of any ship with thrusters extending off the main fuselage to tuck in when it was about to come into contact with a mass relay. It helped to reduce large amounts of drift even though the overall mass never actually changed, and slightly increased handling after they drop from relay to relay. The Kellius approached the massive device and flew alongside the huge rails that pointed in the direction opposite of their flight path. As they neared the immense luminescent center the rings that spun around the source of the light spun faster and faster. The ship's mass effect core automatically activated, and a bright white and blue arc of energy bridged the ship and the relay's center for a fraction of a second. At that point, the Kellius shot off in the direction of the second set of rails on the relay and everything through the viewports blueshifted, causing the appearance of travelling through a bright blue tunnel of sorts despite there being no such thing.

            Not more than a couple seconds later, they had arrived at the next mass relay. This process happened a few more times and only required small adjustments due to drift which was common among all ships. In less than a minute, the star system of Far Rim was in view. They stopped at the Dholen system, which was the closest mapped solar system to the direction they needed to head. Kevin headed up to the bridge and brought up his omni-tool in the process. He used it to upload the map data that he had gathered from Tarsil's findings and research to help give them some direction and the locations of the gas giants where they could discharge the static build-up from the drive core. After uploading the data, he moved to stand behind Ralik's chair.

            “Maps are uploaded,” Kevin noted. “Should be able to access them now.”

            Ralik nodded and navigated the ship's systems to bring up the new maps. “Here we are. Hmm. We might not have to stop at each gas giant. Our newer ship should be able to handle twice the distance before discharging compared to those older research vessels. This would mean. . .”

            Kevin finished the sentence for him. “Only fifteen stops instead of thirty. Even still, that's a long trip.”

            “Eight, actually. That fancy drive core does wonderful things for long term trips. My calculations put that at about ten to eleven days worth of FTL travel, including all discharge stops. We're likely to be set at a high FTL speed, so that means a few more stops to discharge. Guessing about thirty-two hours before each discharge, which changes the number of stops to… eleven.”

            “Tarsil wasn't kidding. Thank God for all those recent advancements in thruster and drive core technology and efficiency. I don't think the Kellius was originally meant to be a deep-space exploration vessel. Alright, set our course as you see fit and we'll go have a bite to eat.”

            “Done and done. Meet you there in a couple minutes. Just need to make a few slight adjustments to this plotted course. Might shave a few hours off of the trip. Or eighteen.”

            Kevin turned and headed back down the neck of the ship. Upon entering the mess hall, which looked more like an executive's lounge with four elongated dinner tables, he paused a moment to stare at the small kitchen in the back. He then decided he would cook this dinner, rather than just pull out a double supply of rations for himself. Investigation of the supplies and tools came first, however. What he found was a small, yet fully equipped kitchen comparable to what one might find back on earth if a high class restaurant kitchen only had to serve ten people at a time. Inside the refrigeration compartments, he found all manner of fresh ingredients. Vegetables, fruits, and meats from across the galaxy, and even some he didn't recognize. There was even a separate compartment for dextro-amino based foods, likely for the turian companions Linus had.

            It would only be a few minutes before Ralik arrived, so he set to work right away. By the time Ralik had finished his adjustments and arrived at the lounge, the aroma of seasoned meats and carefully prepared vegetables filled the room.

            “Sorry Ralik,” Kevin called out from behind some kitchen gear, “I haven't got the slightest idea what salarian cuisine is, so I just started cooking something I like. It's not five star grade, but it's better than rations.”

            Ralik sniffed the air and raised a brow. “I have no idea what you're cooking, but I must admit it smells… edible.”

            “I'll take that as a compliment. Have a seat. This is going to take a bit more time. There are some drinks on the far side behind the bar table.”

            Ralik gathered drinks for them both and took a seat. About twenty minutes later, the food was ready and placed on one of the four long tables. Kevin's portion was easily more than twice that of Ralik's. The salarian looked between the two plates and gave Kevin an odd stare. Kevin had to defend himself against such an unspoken accusation.

            “What? It's because I'm a biotic.”

            “Yes, yes, of course,” Ralik said dismissively.

            “Come on. You know I have higher dietary requirements.”

            “Yes, yes, of course.”

            “I'm going to hurt you.”

            Over the course of the meal, they talked about life as a biotic, and what small things in life made huge differences. Ralik never _talked_ to any biotic about the lifestyle differences before, so it was the perfect opportunity to understand more about human biology and biotics in general beyond what he studied. When Kevin mentioned that biotics had to discharge just like ships did, Ralik wondered why he never saw Kevin do it. Kevin simply avoided the question by finishing his meal and bringing his dishes to the automatic cleaner and moving onto something else about biotic life. Ralik either didn’t notice, or saw fit to let it go.

            At the end of the meal, Ralik expressed interest in taking a nap. He had gone quite some time without one, and his mind needed some downtime. Kevin bid him 'sweet dreams' and Ralik blamed being too tired to come up with a suitable rebuttal. After the uncomfortably sluggish salarian moved down a deck, Kevin thought about what to do. He realized that he hadn't yet taken a look at that room labeled as 'entertainment' yet, so now was as good a time as any to do so. Fortunately, that room just happened to be the very next room down the hall towards the master quarters.

            Kevin waved his hand at the access panel and the door split into 4 parts before disappearing into the walls and ceiling like usual. It was pitch black inside. Not a single light was dimmed, or even on for that matter.

            “Lights on.”

            When the room subsequently lit up, the first thing that Kevin noticed was that the square room was nearly empty. There were some luxurious couches sparsely placed along the walls, each with a small round table on either side and a small section of the wall half-way down to his right was taken up by a some sort of walled-in podium. Then he realized why the room was so empty. The smooth, flat surface that occupied the majority of the floor space must have been a dance floor. The ceiling was dotted with a huge variety of lighting and special effect devices normally found in clubs and the like. The next thing he noticed was the fact that the ambient lighting filling the room was not coming from any particular light source. Upon closer inspection, he found that the light was actually coming from the walls themselves. All four walls in the room were essentially massive screens. Neat.

            He next investigated the podium. He found a set of small stairs against the wall that turned left to face the room leading up to a four foot by four foot area surrounded by waist high walls of audio equipment, controls for the lighting, and several other pieces of gear specific to this room. All of it was top of the line. Kevin cracked a wide smile and immediately reached into his pocket for his storage device. He plugged it into the audio equipment and used the controls to locate his massive library of music. Kevin, being a fan of music styles often played in modern clubs, had more than enough of a track list that would fit this setting. He picked out one of his favorite bass loaded pieces and played it over the sound emitters in the room which he from here on dubbed ' _Club Kellius_ '.

            At first when the music played it was quiet, as if the volume was last set to play as ambiance in the background. Kevin found the basics of the sound equipment intuitive, and wasted no time in fixing that real fast. Using the plethora of controls before him, he increased the volume to a point where each kick in the song could potentially cause his heart to skip a beat. He couldn't help but start bouncing his head to the beat as he moved onto the lighting controls. He used these tools to change the ambient color to a much darker variant of blue so that it wasn't so bright in the room. He turned some of the lighting effects on and much to his pleasant surprise, every change to direction, color or intensity of each effect was consistent with the music being played. Even the screens on the walls, which mostly showed abstract shapes and smooth, shifting colors, moved with the tunes.

            “I could get used to this. Party's at my place? You bet.”

            Kevin spent at least a couple hours playing with all the settings and other controls before he finally gave it a rest. After shutting all the expensive equipment down, he retired to his room where opted to look over a few more data files in his storage device. Ralik was probably done napping, but he figured he had another chance to review those mysterious logs he continually lost memory about and headed out of the entertainment room, took a right, and then took another right at the end of the hall to make his way into his master quarters. This time he decided to check something outside the normal corrupted video logs. These ones, set aside in a different directory labeled 'Preliminary reports', were originally audio only and apparently were recorded by the same scientist that did the other logs.

            “Okay. I'm pretty sure I never checked these as often. Am I right or wrong?” As Kevin spoke to himself, he simultaneously navigated to a simple text file labeled “Increment”. He opened the file and it read: _Number of times Preliminaries have been reviewed: 6._ After a quick integer adjustment, he looked over the staggering number of files present in that directory. Each had a number for the file name running from one to one hundred and five. It was clear that the file names were not the originals, as some of the numbers had question marks after them. It was as if whoever numbered the files wasn't entirely sure if that number was the right one to place on that particular file. Given the enigmatic timeline documented in the other log files, this wasn't surprising. Unfortunately, Kevin could never remember events that corresponded with the numbers. The files were without description. He might have to remedy that at some point. For now, he figured starting at the beginning was the logical choice, and he opened the first numbered audio file. The result once again instantly played over the room's sound emitters.

 

            “Preliminary report, time reference – day Alpha. All of the recruits of the project have finally been assembled. We all met for the first time earlier today in a quick meeting with the project lead who expressed his gratitude for us wanting to undertake this long, long assignment and our enthusiasm for the project. He outlined the overall goals and set down a few ground rules that we must observe over the next many years.

            “I personally had been tasked with keeping a set of logs for the various phases of the project, starting right here with the preliminary reports. I aim to have logs kept every week until the first phase begins, where I will record logs multiple times a week.--”

 

            Kevin ended the recording early. He could see where that log was going. It was a first log, likely full of bad opinions, mundane notes and banter relating to the start of the unnamed project. Kevin typed in a simple description. _The beginning. Project name is conspicuously absent. Full of babble._ It was then that Kevin realized just how daunting a task giving each log a description would be. Nevertheless, he was determined to go over each one and get some sort of description in so that he might have a better idea of what was going on next time he had to review. At the very least, it would help pass the time during the long trip.

            Slowly but surely, Kevin began to listen to each and every preliminary log and attach a quick synopsis of each report in the description of the audio files. Most of the preliminaries were boring and lacking in useful intel. Such was the case when a project slated to be actively in progress for several years was about to kick off. However, there was occasionally a log that had some interesting information. The first case of such was preliminary number twenty-eight. Kevin hit play and the all too familiar Irish accented man spoke through the emitters once more.

 

            “Preliminary report – time reference. . . Something something day alpha. Augh, I don't know. Unimportant. The project lead mentioned outside help, but this was not what we expected. An asari scientist arrived on the station today. Her credentials point her out as one of the top asari xenobiology researchers, almost infamous among the scientific community for having no moral inhibitions and edgy ethical practices. She came to help us decode the nervous system and show us some major differences between the comparatively benign human system versus that of an asari.

            “We studied the differences as a team, and designed plans for the potential of a much, much stronger human nervous system and in addition, neural modifications that would give a human the capacity to contain these changes. The designs are in holo-print now. These changes are groundbreaking. I cannae wait to see the fruits of this labor. McRoilie out.”

 

            Kevin set the description to: _Nameless asari scientist gets involved. First notable excitement of documenter._ Interestingly enough, the very next preliminary had just as much interesting information in it.

           

            “Preliminary report – time reference, second report collaborated with asari scientist. The blue-skin was supposed to leave the station the other day, but did not. We ran numerous simulations of genetic structuring based on known natural biological fetus creation processes. Every single one of them were catastrophic failures. Bloody ridge-head. The asari volunteered to remain and assist us determine what went wrong. Apparently it was a simple question of genetic quota. The asari had included too much of her own people's genetics into the design, and as such, human mothers' bodies would automatically reject the fetus after three weeks of growth when the immune system could determine that the fetus was not quite human.

            Essentially we were back at the drawing board. The asari apologized for admittedly being too anxious to see a genetically diverse human asari hybrid come to life. We quickly reminded her what the purpose of the project was and started from scratch. Much to our fortune, she decided to stay another week and help design a more modified version of the human central nervous and neural system rather than build one up from two sets of genetic data. So far the results are less dramatic, and a bit more realistic. McRoilie out.”

 

            Kevin sat back a moment after writing in his description of: _Epic failure. Proof of asari's lack of ethics/moral inhibitions made known. Square one._ Although he knew these files had to do with his past, he questioned that now. The thought of an ethically gray and eager asari having a hand in his very genetic makeup made him shudder. At least that might explain some of the differences between him and other biotics that he often wondered about. It was obvious by this point that the goal of the project was to create humans that could make full use of biotic abilities without the need for an amplifier. Given the nature of such an experiment, it was understandable why an asari scientist got involved. For science, of course.

            After Kevin had closed the fifty-third log, he noticed that several hours had passed by since he started this little project of his own, and he wanted to stretch his legs. He figured Ralik was long since up by now, but wasn’t sure what he’d be doing on the ship. Salarians never did sleep long, what with their insane metabolism and short life cycle. Kevin envied that short sleep sometimes. He hated wasting hours every day doing it himself. Despite all the advances of medical theory and technology, no one had yet found a way to make it so that a human did not have to sleep to live. It was a biological requirement so rudimentary that even modern science could not shrug it off, and that aggravated Kevin just on principle. The one thing, other than his headaches, that he'd want to be rid of and it couldn't be done. Annoying as it was, he could never dwell on it for too long. If he did, he'd drive himself batty.

            Kevin pushed these thoughts away from his mind and brought himself back to the task at hand. He wanted to see what Ralik was up to, if he was up to anything at all. He was probably studying the drive core in engineering. In order to entertain this initial thought, he called upon Terra.

            “Terra, what is Ralik's current location?” he asked as he closed his files and pushed the chair back.

            “Ralik Dolannus is currently in engineering,” the VI eloquently replied.

            It seemed Kevin's initial hunch was right. With that in mind, Kevin wondered how long his shipmate had been down there, and even more so than before, what he was _actually_ doing. Kevin stood up, shut the terminal off and turned to head down into engineering. He decided to get a good, full on look at the second deck this time, as he was unable to recall any point where he actually had gone through the second deck. After stepping outside the outer door from his quarters, he took an immediate right to head down the stairwell to deck two. He knew that engineering would be inside a door right at the base of the stairs, but he wanted to get a look at the entire deck anyways.

            Now on the second deck and in the middle of the aft end of the hallway, he realized that the corridor on this deck was much more cramped. Head space was significantly reduced and it was only wide enough for two, maybe two and a half people. In addition, it ran straight along the center of the ship rather than jump center to side then back to center like deck one's did. The only place it made any significant change in direction was towards the bow end of the ship, where it jutted port to the stairwell that connected this deck with decks one and three. Behind him at the aft end was the large, heavily reinforced door with a luminescent label centered over it simply reading in bright deep blue letters: 'Engineering'. As he walked down the hall, the first two rooms he came across were port and starboard observation decks. Opting for the port side, he pressed his hand on the access panel to activate the door.

            He stepped inside to the dimly lit room and called for lights to turn on. The first and most obvious feature in this room was the room-tall and half-room width window. Centered along the far wall, it provided a sweeping, but currently blue-washed view of the galaxy outside. The rest of the room was made out to be like a lounge. Some reclining soft-textured chairs dotted the comfortable, albeit limited, floor space. A massive screen sat unused on the fore wall, and a number of sound emitters surrounded the couch that faced it. The Kellius was certainly fitted with all manner of luxuries. Personal vid theaters included.

            Kevin took a closer look at the rounded-corner square viewport. He could see the inside of the outer hull, and the space between the outer and inner hull where ablative armor typically rested on more combat equipped vessels. He saw what looked to like a pair of massive one-piece shutters what would cover and lock over the inner and outer transparent material in times of danger or combat. This was a good thing, as everyone knew viewports were structural weaknesses. Satisfied with his self-hosted tour, Kevin moved back out to the hallway.

            Figuring the starboard observation deck would be similar he ignored it for now and headed towards the bow. Up ahead on his left was the room where the VI core and Life support system was housed. He only needed to take a peek, so he could see what style of VI housing he might have to deal with in the future. Inside, the room was already faintly lit with the screens and lights around the VI core system and the life support equipment. To Kevin's relief, the VI core was a standard circular array with a hollowed out center that lowered to the manual control systems for ease of maintenance. As far as Kevin knew, these were the easiest to handle in emergency situations. Off to the right, towards the bow, was the huge life support system. On the aft side of the room, he could see a second large array that looked far more complicated and had one obvious hardline to the VI core. It had several inactive screens on it and a simple beveled metal label that spanned the top of the hardware. “T.E.R.A.”

            Kevin backed out of the room, deciding that he saw all he needed to see. VI programming and maintenance weren't his forte, and he made no false attempts to anyone to make it seem like it was. Ever. Physical location was all he needed. Once again he trekked the halls like some sort of curious new hallway monitor. Further ahead on his right were the crew quarters. He activated the panel and stepped inside for a look-see.

            It was quaint. Looking aft, five sets of bunk beds lined the port and starboard walls, with the fifth one against the aft wall. Each bed had its own light and fold out nightstand. At the bow side of the room was a very small, durable looking table surrounded by five unanchored chairs. On the bow wall was a huge sliding door. Kevin opened it to find a relatively empty closet. There was some turian and human formal attire hanging far to one side, but that was it. No gear, no weapons. They must have taken it all when they went to Omega. He closed the closet door and made his way out. As he exited, he noticed that all the beds were made up nice except for the bottom one closest to the door, which had some ruffled blankets. That must have been where Ralik just woke up from. At least he _did_ actually sleep.

            At last Kevin was on his way back to engineering. Now maybe he could both see what Ralik was up to and see that miniature Tantalus drive core up close.

            When the door, which had two separately shifting layers to it, opened, the bright blue glow of the spinning three-armed tip of the Tantalus drive core enveloped Kevin and he instinctively squinted. He had never been on a ship where any piece of the core was exposed enough to emit any light, so he wasn't quite expecting that. After taking a quick moment to let his eyes adjust, he found that the deck he was on and the lower deck of engineering was part of one open room. The floor was grated metal and only went out far enough to cover two-thirds of the bottom deck floor space below him due to the drive core’s angle preventing more walking space. Terminals lined the walls on either side behind him, and two multi-terminal podiums sat along the railed edge facing the spinning core. There were simple deck exchange elevators on the far port and starboard sides of the room. Kevin didn't see Ralik up here, so he guessed that the salarian had set himself up a deck down.

            When Kevin stepped on the port side elevator, it automatically lowered to the deck below. It was here that he found the salarian he was looking for. Ralik was busy tinkering with a myriad of equipment he apparently set up as some sort of makeshift laboratory. A couple of the smaller crates that were loaded onto the ship were present and open. He was, at the moment, was busy on a terminal that clearly was not part of the original ship design and hence did not notice Kevin’s arrival or approach.

            This portion of engineering had a more rugged feel to it, as it wasn’t nearly as clean cut as the upper floor. Large pipes and thick wires symmetrically flowed from wall to floor and eventually into the drive core's management system at the base. Down here, like the floor directly above them, the railing depicting the 'edge' of the walkable space didn't form a flat line from wall to wall. It followed a gradual trapezoid shape with the shorter side right at the base of the drive core. Also like the upper deck, it had terminals monitoring various systems sparsely lining the edge. Unfortunately, the walking space was reduced by Ralik's lab, which had expanded slightly away from the fore side wall just to the side of the large door heading into the cargo bay. Anywho, time to find out what was going on.

            “Ralik,” Kevin called out above the ambient noise of the working drive core, “what are you doing, exactly?”

            Ralik turned around in surprise, arms poised to strike. “Whoa, hey--! Kevin? What did I tell you about doing that?” The salarian let out a drawn out sigh to calm his nerves, then turned to gesture towards his project. “Take a look. It seems Tarsil sent us a bit more than extra fuel and food.”

            “I can see that, but what are you doing?”

            “It’s laboratory equipment, but as you likely have already noticed, we lack anything resembling a lab.”

            Kevin tilted his head and crossed his arms. “So… your solution is to build a makeshift lab right in the middle of engineering?”

            “Of course. We'll need at least some of this equipment to gather information on anything we find beyond the Melkanis relay.”

            “But… Engineering?” Emphasis on the engineering part.

            “More available power sources.”

            Kevin let his face fall into an open palm.

            “Besides,” Ralik continued, “There are no critical systems in this spot, and I needed an open area. This is one of those very few open areas.”

            “Alright, alright, I see your point,” Kevin acquiesced.

            “Unless, of course, you want the lab in your oversized room. Next to the bed, maybe. Yes, that would do nicely. Toss that tiny terminal and set up a lab in its place. Maybe place the workbench where the shower used to be. . .”

            Kevin was about to simply walk away until he heard one specific word.

            “Workbench? Where? When did we get one of those?”

            Ralik simply cracked a smile before he returned to setting up a piece of equipment. “It's over on the starboard side there, passed the locked cargo bay access door. It was in one of the first crates I opened once I found out there were other items among our food and fuel.”

            Kevin was thrilled to hear that a workbench was available to him. This meant that he didn’t have to spend time converting a med bay counter. This was the easiest way for him to modify his weapon and hardsuit, since the workbench had power and the tools to do it. Combined with his omni-tool, he could make all sorts of changes. When he realized he left all his pistol mods up in his room, he decided to make it a later project to help pass the time.

            “Try not to convert the entire place, alright? The sign above the door says ‘Engineering’ for a reason.” Kevin turned to leave by hitting the elevator first. On his way out, he could hear Ralik humming to himself, then singing a few words.

            “I am the very model of a scientist salarian~.”

            “Yeah right,” Kevin said under his breath as he rose up a deck.

            For now he thought would go back to his room and resume categorization of the logs, take a shower, and likely fall asleep to some music. With a multi-day FTL trip in the works, napping might be the easiest way to pass time. Kevin once again called upon the VI for something as he stepped off the stairs and onto deck one.

            “Terra, please alert Ralik when we get close to our first stop. Should be a gas giant so we can discharge the core.” This way he wouldn't have to worry about being bothered. Sure it was a bit of a dick move, but it wasn’t anything Ralik couldn’t handle. Besides, if he was honest with himself, this was hardly the worst thing he’d could potentially drop on him…

            “Acknowledged.”


	8. Chapter Seven

### Chapter Seven

            “Log sixty-four. Time reference – three weeks and one day following the distortion incident. The past three log times have been missed due to a combination of cleanup and new findings. Interestingly, these new developments, while unrelated to the incident, still hold significant scientific weight and have provided us a wealth of data to sift through. Having been to the Ascension wing at Grissom Academy myself, I am well aware of an interesting yet subdued phenomenon among the biotics. Similar to the element zero in drive cores, human biotics must discharge some amount of electrical buildup as they perform tasks with biotics. It usually comes in the form of a small shock when touching grounded objects or people. Since no one can go for long without discharging, and as such cannot build up a significant charge to do any damage, this trait generally flies under the radar.

            “What we've been discovering over the course of this project is that our subjects do not exhibit this phenomenon. While this on the surface may seem an inconsequential finding, the reality is a bit more intriguing. After a short bit of research, I found that at no point during their lives do most asari ever experience biotic related electrical buildup. At the risk of being scientifically inaccurate, I am going to hypothesize that the static buildup that typical human biotics experience is directly related to the artificially amplified electrical nervous system impulses, as the asari that _do_ experience this seem to be the ones outfitted with similar implants. It seems chemically generated synapses do not agitate the element zero nodules in the same way that mechanically generated ones do. This opens up an entirely new area of element zero research, but such comes after the project at hand. At the very least I am glad we, the staff, do not have to endure electrical discharges every time we handle the children. McRoilie out.”

           

            Kevin closed the audio log and threw in an appropriate description. This particular log actually had information he had been seeking, mostly as to why he never experienced the static shock like most his friends at the Ascension Project did. It also pointed something out to him that confirmed some of his lingering suspicions. Any biotic friends he had back then who never had to deal with that issue must have been from the same project. It was obvious from the logs that this project was the first time anything relating to natural biotics had ever been attempted, so it was pretty safe to assume he could have personally known other kids from the project. In fact, his good friend Xavier was likely one of them.

            He laid back in the chair and stretched. They were now about three and a half days into their long FTL trip. The whole thing was going pretty smooth so far. Each discharge stop was devoid of abnormal events, much like the rest of the voyage. He and Ralik hadn't said much to each other outside of short conversations during the core discharge stops and a couple meals they just happened to have together. Kevin was straight up bored, but he considered this a good thing. The less things went wrong, the more likely it was that he could get through the relay, make some groundbreaking discoveries, and get back for his creds. Perhaps he could even consider this an easy job. He hadn’t had one of those in a while. With the absurd amount of money Tarsil offered him, he could easily lie back for a few months and do nothing – not bad for an easy job.

            For the first time in his life, he actually _wanted_ to hit up Afterlife and have a solid set of hours grinding up against his favorite asari dance partner rather than having it just happen whenever he passed by or stopped in for a job. What a weird urge to have. He thought about going over to Club Kellius and putting on some dance music at high volumes to curb these wants, but without anybody else in the room it would be empty and unsatisfying. Why was he so anxious to go out and do something? All the entertainment features he could ever want were aboard this ship, but it just didn't fill the void the same way that physical freedom did. It was too bad there wasn't a gym aboard the ship. He could use a good workout.

            Kevin felt the ship come out of FTL. They must have been stopping for their next discharge site. Kevin saw this as a chance to move a bit and he shut the terminal down once again. This time he was headed for the bridge.

            Upon arrival at the front of the ship, he found Ralik setting the ship up for a core discharge. Without saying a word, he stepped around one of the empty chairs and peered out the viewports. The star they now orbited was a deep blue, and the planet they stopped above was a starkly contrasting orange and red. The edge of the planet towards the star looked like a fluorescent lavender. Pleasantly captivating. He stepped back and leaned on one of the consoles before he looked at Ralik. Ralik was concentrating on the placement of the ship, but that could do nothing to hide the new burn mark that scarred the lower left side of his face.

            “Ralik, what did you _do?_ ”

            “What?” Ralik asked, hardly looking up from the controls. “Oh, I suppose you mean this.” Ralik tapped the left side of his face with an armored finger.

            “Yup, that'd be it,” Kevin confirmed, folding his arms.

            “A small run-in with an electrical discharge on one of the pieces of equipment I was setting up earlier today. I think the power management systems on it were dead on arrival. After connecting it to a power source, electricity arced from the device to my face.”

            “Ouch. Well, good to see you didn't get thrown into the drive core. This trip is boring enough as is.”

            “You really should work on your ability to console, Kevin. It lacks horribly. At least with this I can still make breeding arrangements. You, my friend, had no chance from birth.”

            Kevin was all set up to deliver a considerable blow to Ralik's ego, but unfortunately that moment never presented itself. In place of his counter was a beeping that sounded a bit too much like an alarm to go unnoticed. Ralik stopped what he was doing and he tapped a few things on the haptic interface to figure out what was going on. Kevin leaned in to see.

            “It looks like… a broadcasted signal. Some kind of message.” Ralik tilted his head in astonishment.

            “Way out here in the middle of nowhere? In geth space? There's no way. A trap maybe?”

            “It is possible, but as you said, I really don't see why anyone for any reason would be way out here in geth space. Why would the geth set up a snare out here?”

            “Unless someone's heading in the same direction as us, however unlikely that sounds. Well, what does it say?” Kevin asked, anxious to at least hear the message. Ralik tapped a bit more and the message began to play.

            Unfortunately, it was distorted immensely. All it contained were garbled sounds mixed with gratuitous amounts of white noise.

            “Terra,” Kevin started, “can you clean this message up at all?”

            “Attempting audio recovery. Please stand by.” There was a silence of a whole two seconds.

            “Unfortunately, the message could not be reconstructed. There is too much audio degradation. However, it appears that this signal was broadcasted on current distress call channels.”

            “Can a point of origin be established?” Ralik asked, driving for more information.

            “A point of origin cannot be accurately determined due to the same interference that caused the signal degradation. However, the direction of broadcast and signal strength suggests that it may have come from within this solar system.”

            Kevin immediately brought up the local system map on the terminal in front of the bridge chair to the left of the one Ralik sat in. “According to our scans of the system, there's only one other planet orbiting this star. It's on the far side. I guess that could explain the degradation. It had to pass right by the star to get to us.”

            Another alarm started going off. This one had a whole different level of urgency to it.

            “Terra?” Kevin asked, not waiting to find out via terminal.

            “Alert: Several vessels have dropped out of FTL within this solar system. They match current geth dropship-class ship profiles.”

            “Ah crap,” Kevin calmly said, shaking his head. “And just when things were going so well. Ralik, we better move.”

            “Already on it,” Ralik stated as the ship began to sink into the opaque atmosphere of the planet. “The atmosphere of this planet absorbs and diffuses signals. If we lower in we'll be blind, but we won't catch the attention of the geth.”

            The viewports became obscured by a swirling menagerie of colored gases partnered by the occasional flash of odd-colored lightning from the discharging core. The light of the nearby sun could still be visible, but its blue hue was long lost in the warmer colors.

            “Why would the geth be sending dropship-class ships out here?” Kevin wondered aloud. “Those aren't regular patrol or mining vessels.”

            “I think we know why,” Ralik solemnly said, looking to Kevin.

            “You've got to be kidding me. So that distress call is real. My brain tells me to just pick up and leave. It's best not to get involved with the geth on their turf. Even still, we don't know who's over there.”

            “Could simply be pirates or slavers looking to get outside of the range of prying eyes. Either way, the drive is just about fully discharged, so we can move in a minute.”

            Kevin thought about it for that entire minute. There was a considerable amount of risk in finding out more. When the core was all set, Ralik looked up to him to see what his decision was.

            “Let's at least maneuver around the far side to we can get a clear listen to that distress call. I want to hear who's over there.”

            Ralik sighed. “Alright Kevin. It was your call. I will be keeping my distance, though.”

            “Fair enough. Let's move.”

            Ralik turned his attention back to the plethora of glowing controls before him and he began to set in a course for an area away from both planets where they should be able to pick up the signal with better clarity. They briefly moved to FTL to reach said area in a minimal amount of time. There they conducted and all-stop and drifted while they received the distress call.

            “ _This is Captain Siri'Kortel of the quarian ship Forverna. We have been downed by the geth on an unknown planet orbiting the star L5288 beyond the Dholen solar system just outside the edges of the Far Rim star system. We need immediate assistance before the geth return. If anyone is out there… Please help!”_

            At that point the message began to repeat.

            “Quarians?!” Kevin was taken aback at such a find. “What are they doing way out here?”

            “Will you stop asking such rhetorical questions?” Ralik jabbed. “Shall we go now? It's only another six days to the Melkanis relay.”

            “I'll drive,” Kevin said, much to Ralik's relief.

            “All yours. I was getting sick of that seat anyways.” Ralik stood from his seat and stepped back to take the position of over-the-shoulder observer while Kevin sat down.

            Much to Ralik's dismay, however, they did not head away from the system via FTL. Instead, Kevin was bee-lining it for the planet were the distress call was coming from.

            “Uhh, Kevin? What are you doing?”

            “You heard the distress call, Ralik. They need help. If the geth are still sending dropships in, then they must still be fighting to stay alive.”

            “We're on the verge of making a monumental discovery, and you want to play hero against the geth for a bunch of vagrants?! I cannot believe I let you take that seat!”

            “What can I say? I have a soft spot for quarians. Sit down before you hurt yourself.”

            Ralik was more than upset. He was worried. “Can't we just wish them well and go? There is too much risk here.”

            “Would your old STG unit just ignore an entire ship of quarians about to meet a slow demise due to the geth?” Kevin asked, trying to hit a place in Ralik that would make him understand.

            “If it went against mission parameters, yes. One ship of scavengers is hardly high priority.”

            “Look, if I go planetside by myself, you can hang here and monitor the situation. If I die or can't make it back to the ship, then you can take it and leave to go complete your almighty mission. I know you aren't _that_ heartless, Ralik. Especially after risking _your_ life to help Illium police.”

            Frustrated, Ralik grumbled and sat down to Kevin's right. Whether it was that Kevin finally hit that spot or it was that Ralik simply gave up, Kevin didn't know. Either way, they were now on their way to an unknown, whitewashed planet with one black band in its otherwise clear atmosphere.

            “We'll approach from the night side,” Kevin stated. “Hopefully that's not where the geth are congregating. At least by then we'll get a better scan of what's going on, since we'll be out of the sun. Seems like its radiation is messing with some sensors, and it’s putting out a lot. Guess that's why the message was so garbled before.”

            Ralik no longer had any input. He resigned to letting himself cool down before bringing any advice to this situation. Be that as it may, it seemed to him Kevin's strategy, however shallow, was sound at this point. When they fell into the shadow of the planet, the interference had largely vanished. Having a better scan of the planet, Kevin could tell that there was little to be scanned. It was more or less barren, and had a thin atmosphere of nitrogen. Most scans of the surface came back blank, probably due to the fact that the surface was constantly saturated by the radiation the local star had put out. What _was_ apparent was that there was no debris, no dead bodies, no geth, or anything of note on this half, so whatever was left had to be on the day side. Despite this, the scans revealed that the small black cloudy band around the equator was in fact smoke that had gotten caught in a mid-atmosphere jet stream of sorts. If they found the source, they would probably found the quarians – and the geth.

            Ralik checked one of the haptic screens on the far left of the bridge. “Gravity reads about one point zero nine that of the citadel's. Should be safe to land.”

            “We're going in, fast and low,” Kevin announced. “We'll do a fly-by search for the source of the smoke, following that band there.”

            “Why do a low altitude search when we can just pick out the source from the day side?” Ralik asked.

            “Because,” Kevin confidently started, “most of our chances of our getting out of this alive rest on keeping the geth ignorant of our presence, and our scans may not pick up the ship _or_ the geth fast enough from orbit when in the sun. You saw the interference the star caused. Staying low to the surface might help us evade scans a bit longer, especially if the radiation is bathing the ship too.”

            “My concern rests with the quarians, believe it or not. This will take longer, and who knows how long they might be able to hold off the geth.”

            “If they can survive long enough to set up a distress beacon, then they likely can survive a few extra minutes.”

            Just at that point, the Kellius entered the atmosphere of the planet. The ship shuttered as it split the foreign air, but was otherwise unaffected. They decreased in speed as they approached the surface to level out. As soon as they were parallel to the unlit barren ground, they increased speed to begin the search. Not more than a minute later, they entered into the day lit side. Mountains, hills and what appeared to be the pointed blades of massive double edged swords jutting up from the surface flew by below them in a blur. There also seemed to be sparse clusters of some sort of vegetation. They looked like trees, but they didn't flow, or at least, the leaves were as stiff as bone. The so called leaves were also a pasty white like the rest of the surface.

            “Alright Ralik, here's the deal. When we land, I'm going to go on foot to try and make contact with the quarians. If all goes well, we'll bring them aboard and get out of here before the geth come back to say hi. If not…  Well, I'll improvise.”

            “And me?” Ralik questioned.

            “Stick to the plan,” Kevin answered. “This ship needs to be ready for dust off at a moment's notice. If something goes wrong…”

            Kevin removed his view from the piloting console for just a moment to look Ralik in the eye. It was clear to Kevin that Ralik was attempting to ready himself mentally. It was a small mission, but things could easily go very wrong.

            “You need to get whoever makes it back off of the planet. Whether none of us do or all of us. Primary objective is getting the Kellius out in one piece, next comes rescue.”

            “Understood,” Ralik confirmed. “I fully expect the geth will start at us sooner or later, though.”

            “Right, and we haven't got a whole lot in terms of firepower. Just get out of orbit and hit FTL.”

            “Remind me again why we're risking our necks for a bunch of quarians?”

            Kevin couldn't help but let a smile cross his features. “Just focus on the Kellius, Ralik. I'll worry about the quarians.”

            “You aren't earning points in the empathy department,” Ralik calmly said.

            Right on cue, the pillar of smoke denoting the source appeared on the horizon behind some small mountains and tall hills. Kevin now needed to find a place to land that might best cover the ship from view or scans. Kevin had to revert to staring out the viewports for this task, as the surface and supposed vegetation did not properly show up on his console, making finding a level spot difficult.

            “There!” Ralik shouted, pointing to a small valley between sharp mountains.

            The spot looked big enough for the Kellius to lower into, and the valley seemed to head right down to where the smoke was coming from. Kevin initiated the surface landing sequence and set the ship to hover just above the level valley so he could get a good look at it before landing.

            Unfortunately, what Kevin and Ralik discovered was that the valley was not quite flat. It was loaded with a grove of the stiff tree-like vegetation. Fortunately, there was a spot near the rear of the Kellius that lacked the trunks to these trees, and was just covered by the branches and outcroppings. Additionally, the semi-open shape was nearly perfect for the Kellius to make it through. Unfortunately, the shape wasn't as perfect as Kevin would like, and it made landing a nail-biting challenge. Fortunately, the trees did indeed bend as the Kellius pushed passed the ones around the outside of the opening. Kevin likened them to thick rubber trees rather than bone stiff ones. Unfortunately, there was still a violent, loud crunch as something crumpled underneath the weight of the Kellius. Ralik and Kevin winced at each other after hearing that, hoping there were no punctures in the hull as a result. Finally, they both then let go of a breath they didn't even know they had been holding during the tense landing.

            “Whatever that was, it didn't sound good,” Kevin noted as he got up from his seat. “I'm going to suit up. I'll let you know when to lower the ramp.”

            “Well done,” Ralik shouted after Kevin while executing a slow clap. “We are not dead after all. The rest of the mission should be simple after watching you handle that!”

            There was no time for a witty reply, however. Kevin had more important things to get around to than shutting Ralik down. Again. Ralik sat down at one of the chairs in the bridge to bring up some scans and monitors. It seemed even during a mission like this, Ralik's researcher tenancies could not be curbed. Meanwhile, Kevin sprinted with all haste down the length of the ship to get to his room. Once there, he got into his hardsuit and set the helmet on his head. Once the airtight seal was confirmed with a classic hiss, he clipped his pistol onto his belt. Only now did he recall that he had forgotten to mod his pistol on the workbench Ralik had set up in engineering. Without the phasic mod he bought on Illium, he would be at a serious disadvantage if he ever came up against geth infantry. Geth tended to have stronger than average kinetic barriers, and his premium unmodded pistol would need to make at least two or three direct hits before a geth was actually exposed.

            Kevin turned around in his room and located his knife. He tied the scabbard to his waist so that the knife was behind him and the handle stuck out sideways to the right. This way he could easily grab it and slice in one fluid motion if ever found that he needed it. In one last move before he left, he swiped an armband lined with pockets so he could bring plenty of extra thermal clips. He knew he would need them before he got back. With everything set, he headed out of his room and down into the cargo hold.

            “Alright, Ralik,” Kevin called over the suit's internal radio. “Lower the ramp.”

            “Already? Well well, speedy aren't we? Should be lowering now.”

            Kevin didn't even wait for the ramp to lower completely and was lunging off the edge by the time it had started to level out. He landed and rolled forward to absorb the impact from the slightly higher than usual gravity of the planet. He pulled his pistol from its holster after he straightened back up and looked around. To his surprise, he found a lot more than rocks and trees.

            The entire area within the small valley looked as though it had been converted into a refugee camp. Large metal cargo crates were spread about and clustered into groups among salvaged pieces of whatever ship they landed on. To his far left was the apparent living area where sealed food rations, a few open crates and all manner of makeshift bedding could be found under a variety of thrown together tents. To his far right were a number of tables made of welded pieces of scrap metal. From what Kevin could see, they were used for everything ranging from eating to equipment repair to drawing up plans. Straight ahead in the middle of the camp was several opened crates turned on their side. He could barely make out the outlines of various weapons jutting through the open side. It was whatever they could salvage for usable weapons. An armory of sorts. The only thing missing from the campsite were quarians.

            Kevin looked behind him back towards the Kellius to see just what it was they landed on. He saw metal scraps under one of the landing legs, though he couldn't quite confirm what they were beforehand. He made the guess that they landed on a cluster of crates. That was good news. Crates wouldn't have been able to puncture the hull.

            Kevin then looked up towards the bridge viewports and gave Ralik a brief salute. “Looks like we landed on their campsite, Ralik.”

            “Yes, I'm looking at that now. Good thing we landed here and not on some hapless survivors. What was that noise? Can you see what we hit?”

            “Looks like we landed on some crates. No biggie. I'm heading to the other end of the valley. Looks like there's a way down to the source of the smoke there.”

            “Try not to get shot in the face.”

            “Why Ralik, I'm touched.”

            “Tick tock, Kevin.”

            Kevin shook his head and looked above the Kellius. The trees they pushed through had since sprung back and covered the ship with their limbs. At least this would help shield the Kellius from geth sensors. He also noticed that the colors underneath the sun-washed canopy were different. The leaves, long and thin like blades of grass, were a mix of maroon and crimson. The trunks were a greenish brown and their massive roots cracked the porous, white surface. A pleasant addition of color to this otherwise blank world.

            Kevin turned back to the campsite and headed towards the armory between him and the other end of the valley. At the very least he could grab something with a higher rate of fire to help work off geth kinetic barriers. As he moved, he could hear the familiar distant sound of chaos. Not just any chaos, armed combat chaos. There was a considerable battle going on out there somewhere, and Kevin had a feeling that was where he was just about to head. He picked up his pace, but stopped suddenly when he heard a _crack_ come from somewhere within his vicinity. His mind had trained itself over the years to focus on a target, but following echoes was hard to do through a helmet. Nevertheless, Kevin's sharpened senses helped him focus on the sound as he slowly moved towards the armory. He also noticed that the reserve of thermal clips in the armory was alarmingly low. Either they grabbed a bunch and ran, were low to begin with, or someone else took them.

            Anticipating a geth ambush, Kevin began to gather dark energy to himself for a lethal counter-attack. The intermittent sharp cracking continued as he moved, and he was finally able to zone in on where the target was; it was hidden behind one of the armory crates. The closer he got, the more he noticed sounds other than the cracking. He heard hushed grunts, heavy breathing and mumbling. Clearly this was not geth. Kevin relaxed his stance, but maintained his dark energy reserve for a barrier instead of an attack. Kevin figured that whoever was behind that crate likely thought Kevin was a geth in the same fashion that he did, and he didn't want to be shot. In order to reassure whoever it was behind the crate that he was not hostile, Kevin let the pistol dangle on his finger by the trigger guard and raised his hands up. He created a biotic barrier in front of him and waited for the 'surprise attack'. Instead, he heard a quieted voice in an obvious quarian accent.

            “Come on. What good are all these weapons if the thermal clip slots are jammed?”

            There was one last loud crack and the valley fell as silent as the distant fight would allow. A sigh of preparation was let go beyond the armory crate followed by a mere three seconds of stillness.

            Then suddenly a quarian popped up, aiming an assault rifle at Kevin and using the crate both for cover and a support to steady the gun. Kevin waited for the imminent shots, but to his surprise, they never came. The heavy breathing quarian now before him, clad in an armor-covered environmental and a mix of dark orange, gold and maroon colored cloths, stared Kevin down through the sight of the assault rifle. Kevin could see his finger twitching, as if he hadn't decided what was in front of him was to be shot or not.

            Kevin, with hands in the air, decided to help him with that.

            “I surrender?”


	9. Chapter Eight

### Chapter Eight

            The male quarian reluctantly lowered his gun and stared at Kevin as if his very existence was impossible. He used the arm that previously supported the assault rifle to support his own weight as he leaned on the crate decorated with jutting gun stocks. He was breathing heavy as well, no doubt a byproduct of the stress he had likely been enduring since they landed. He didn't stand up straight either, indicating to Kevin that he had likely sustained some sort of injury. He then spoke with a familiar modulation and a mild accent in his voice.

            “You… You aren't geth. If you aren't geth, then why…? How…?” The quarian shook his head. “Nevermind that. Pointless questions. I am Gunnery Chief Tyr'Garloh of the Migrant Fleet Marines.”

            Kevin released his high-armed stance and took a few steps forward. The quarian no longer appeared to be confused or afraid of what Kevin might be, and so he holstered his pistol.

            “Kevin Folner. I got your message.” He took a brief moment to casually point off into the distance towards the smoke. “I take it things aren't going well.”

            “Considering all that's happened thus far, I'm surprised we're alive as it is. Quite a few individuals have a lot of thanks coming their way, assuming we get out of this mess alive.”

            Tyr hauled himself on top of the crate and sat down facing away from Kevin on a corner that lacked armaments. Kevin naturally walked around to talk to the quarian face to face. That's when he saw the wound on Tyr's thigh.

            “You've been hit?” Kevin asked.

            “Yeah,” Tyr replied glumly. “Took a shot while fighting the geth down there in the valley. Finished off my kinetic barriers and still had enough punch to go through my armor. Missed the bone, though. I've already applied what we had left for medi-gel and my suit's sealed it off to prevent further infection. I can walk, but I'm not capable of dogging frontline combat until it heals. Or the infection blows over. Whichever comes first.” He failed to resist a hard, wet cough, which indicated to Kevin that the infection was already well under way.

            “So why are you the only one up here?” Kevin asked as he looked back towards the other end of the valley. He noticed a myriad of guns scattered about between the armory and the far end where it appeared to take a left down a hill. It looked as though those that had trekked downhill might have dropped the fallen armaments during a hasty relocation.

            “The captain sent me up here to keep watch over the camp after I got shot. I figured she just didn't want me down there to watch in helplessness as our crew got slaughtered by geth. In truth it's because I can't maneuver fast enough for the frontlines and she didn't want to commit me to the deathbeds just yet. Anyways, the only thing up here worth protecting is the distress beacon, and even _that's_ gone now.”

            Tyr turned to look back at the Kellius and the scraps underneath. Kevin looked around Tyr to see just what it was he was referring to and quickly discovered for himself what the quarian was staring at.

            “So that's what that crunch was,” Kevin said under his breath.

            “The way I see it,” Tyr continued with a quick point towards the smoke, “the battle ends down there. Either we miraculously exhaust the geth's numbers, or we get overrun. Even if we did win, we still have extremely limited supplies and no ship. Or rather…” The quarian pauses to again look back at the Kellius. “… We _didn't._ Hmm. Extraction? Possible, but difficult.”

            “Alright,” Kevin started. “It's time to evacuate you and your crew. How many are there?” Kevin stepped back and went to lean on one of the many six foot tall blade formations sticking out of the ground.

            “Whoa, I wouldn’t if I were you,” Tyr suddenly blurted out.

            “Huh? Wouldn’t what? Oh, lean against this?” Kevin knocked a knuckle against the broad side of the formation he was about to lean on.

            “The techs ran some scans on those. They're impossibly dense, and the sharp edges crystallize at near molecular levels. If you lean on that sharp edge you'll cleave yourself in two just with your own weight.” The quarian stood up off of the crate, staggered once and grabbed his rifle. There was a definite urgency in the air, but the need to pass on intel always came first. “They've been both our demise and our savior at the same time.”

            “How so?” Kevin asked. At this point both he and the quarian slowly started towards the open end of the valley.

            “When we crash landed, we hit a couple of them as we skimmed hilltops. We figured they'd snap like trees, but we were wrong. They tore into our hull like it was made of water. The bigger ones cut pieces of the ship off entirely. The biggest remaining piece is the shell at the base of this hill. That's where my shipmates are holding their ground right now.

            “On the flipside, there's a huge amount of smaller ones all over these hills. Going by foot is a danger unto itself. Stepping on one essentially means loss of a foot. It's kept geth ground patrols from finding our campsite here and from finding the path down to the backside of that shell of a ship. Not to mention they can't really drop troops anywhere they want. If they even nick one of those, that's instant death in my book. And to answer your original question, there were a total of thirty-two of us when I was sent up here. Fifteen of those were marines, including myself. The rest… regular civilians and techs.”

            “So the geth haven't located this area,” Kevin summarized. “Good. And I take it there's no way around the ship piece down there?”

            “Well, it seemed fortune favored us when it came to that. When the main piece of the ship finally came to rest, it nestled itself right at the base of the valley. The corners crumpled and the ship settled in. It effectively made a perfect blockade and kept the geth from walking right on up. They've been fighting the geth there for almost a day now. Keelah, ancestors knows they're running out of clips, combat effective bodies, and sanity.”

            At this point they came across a ledge that looked down over the path to where the smoke was coming from. Kevin caught a glimpse of the shell that Tyr was just talking about. What wasn't bored out or destroyed from the landing looked like a classic example of quarian ships – old and discolored. Only now it was smoking in several areas and there were some holes in what was left of the hull where he could still see fires struggling to stay alive by feeding on the thin atmosphere. He looked to the ground and picked up an old sniper rifle from among the guns scattered across the ground.

            Kevin used the sniper scope to get a better look at the path he would have to traverse in order to reach the other quarians. It wound down right side of the valley and disappeared behind another collection of sharp hills that came between him and the shell and obscured most of the quarian wreckage from view. As he scanned the path, he caught glimpse of something he was hoping not to see. A geth ground infantry.

            “Tyr, you said the geth can't make it to this path right?” Kevin asked, still looking down the scope.

            “That's right. Why?” Tyr asked, sounding suspicious.

            “Take a look,” Kevin said as he offered Tyr the sniper rifle and used his right arm to give the soldier a direction to focus on.

            The quarian marine put his rifle down and took the sniper rifle in his three-fingered hands. When he peered into the sniper scope, he scanned the path in a way similar to the way Kevin viewed the hillside and focused on the give direction. Halfway down, he spotted a geth trooper in the process of climbing down the side of one of the adjacent hills and stepping onto the path.

            “That bosh'tet!” Tyr shouted. A click was heard as he pulled the trigger. Unfortunately, the rifle's thermal clip had been jammed and a shot could not be fired. He handed the sniper rifle back to Kevin while placing the other hand over the small light at the base of his helmet.

            “If the geth know of this path and have found a way to get to it, then it's only a matter of hours, if that, before the geth get in the backside and flank our remaining forces. In short, we're out of time.”

            “Are you a good shot, Tyr?” Kevin asked.

            “I've taken my share of heads off, sure.”

            Kevin quickly and violently replaced the thermal clip in the sniper rifle and shoved the gun back into Tyr's hands. “Then cover me.”

            “What? Where are you going?” Tyr shouted after Kevin, who had gotten up and started sprinting for the path.

            Kevin bent down and scooped up an assault rifle from the ground. This one, like all the other guns he had seen up here at the camp was an older model. It could still take geth down, but it might take a few more shots to do it. “I'm going to go say hi to your captain.”

            Tyr sighed and tapped on his omni-tool a few times before radioing to Kevin.

            “I'm sending you the encryption to our comms channel so you can monitor what's going on. Don't say anything until you've met with the captain, understand? You're an HVI, a high value individual. If the geth are listening in, we don't want them knowing you've arrived until after we’ve come up with a next course of action.”

            “Gotcha,” Kevin replied as he started down the winding path while putting a new thermal clip into his rifle. He set up the new comms channel on his suit so that he could hear what was to be heard and moved with as much haste as his legs would allow going downhill in that hardsuit. It wasn't long before he found the solitary geth heading down the path. As he approached the geth soldier from behind, he found that the geth still hadn't noticed his presence. Kevin opted to save his clips in this case and ran right up behind the synthetic enemy. By the time the geth had noticed that someone was approaching from behind, it was too late. A swift blade carved its way into the cables and tubes jutting out the back of the head. Sparks went flying and the sounds of failing geth electronics were heard as the body fell limp to the ground.

            Kevin sheathed his knife and continued on down the path. The sound of military chaos grew louder with each step. Occasionally he would hear the unmistakable sound of a mass accelerator sniper rifle go off a few times, followed by a geth body falling comically to the ground from the hills surrounding the sunken path on which he trekked. Once he followed the path far enough to see around the obscuring hills, the full view of the battleground came into sight.

            It seemed he was only one third of the way down the hill. From here he could see the whole shell, but he couldn't see much inside. Aside from numerous tears and breaks in the hull, the rest was as intact as it could be after a crash landing. On the other side of the shell was an area of nearly flat terrain surrounded in the distance by more hills and craggy mountains. Haphazardly scattered about the flat area was an innumerable amount of shiny specs – geth corpses that had been laid to rest by the quarians holding out inside the ship.

            There were also a few much larger corpses spread about the battlefield. They didn't look like the typical colossus or armature class geth he had seen in the past. They actually looked more like small sized geth dropships used to bring infantry to the place of conflict. The geth that were still active used the huge smoking husks for cover while they attempted to reach the quarian ship. This thought was confirmed when a geth dropship matching the configurations of the ones on the ground approached from the far side of the battlefield and dropped about eight fresh geth soldiers behind one of the wrecks with a quick set of distant muffled thuds that echoed with plenty of delay. Both sides were exchanging quite a bit of fire, which was made obvious by the illuminated trailing lines of fired projectiles. No one, synthetic or organic, would survive for very long in that no-man's land.

            Suddenly, a female quarian voice sounded over the encrypted channel. _“Captain, we have sniper fire coming from the hills behind us!”_

_“It's probably Garloh. Guess he couldn't keep to his orders after all,”_ a male quarian said.

            _“Keelah, Garloh, what are you doing?”_ Another female. Kevin recognized this voice from the distress signal. It was the captain.

            _“Just thought I'd help out, ma'am,”_ Tyr said rather nonchalantly.

            _“I told you to watch the camp, not shoot geth down here! Get back to your post!”_

_“With all due respect, ma'am”_ Tyr countered, _“This is more important than watching an empty camp.”_ There was no argument from the captain this time. Apparently she got the hint that something was up.

            There were a few more shots from Tyr and another synthetic body fell down the subtle walls of the path to Kevin's left. To his right, however, he heard steps from above. He looked up to see a geth coming down at him and as it was pulling out a geth pulse rifle. Kevin stopped and braced the stock of his rifle against his shoulder before unleashing a barrage of mass effect propelled pellets at his attacker. By the time the geth had his rifle out and ready to fire, several shots had already bounced off its kinetic barriers. It had enough time to make one aimless shot at Kevin before its barriers failed and allowed a few more shots to fatally shower the unprotected synthetic underneath. The one shot the geth let loose harmlessly hit the ground at Kevin's feet and kicked up a few bits of broken ground.

            Kevin didn't even wait for the geth to come crashing down to the path before he was already moving on. The geth now likely knew that a new player was on the field, and Kevin couldn't waste any more time. He now kept his eyes up in anticipation of more geth troops coming over the tops of the hills to take him down. Most were taken out by Tyr, and the occasional one to make to the path met a quick demise at the bad end of Kevin’s rifle. Finally, after a trek that was longer than the deceitful path visually told, the rear entrance to the shell came into view.

            The door didn't look so much like a door as much as it looked like it was a rounded rectangle cut out of the hull and then placed back on with a handle and hinges. Kevin pressed his back against the scorched metal wall next to the door and waited a moment to catch his breath. He pounded on the door three times, hoping that someone would notice and come to open it. Instead, he heard footsteps above him. He flicked his head skyward to see an armored female quarian standing in a tear in the hull above him that had been reconfigured to act as a platform, her assault rifle poised to take him out. In place of the shots, however, he heard a female quarian over the comms channel.

            _“It's… It's a human?”_

_“A human? Let him in, now!”_ shouted the captain.

            The quarian disappeared from the hole in the hull and within the minute the door next to him let out a few clanks before slowly opening with a deep groan. Kevin immediately ducked inside and the door was shut and locked behind him. Now that he was inside, the atmosphere of the battle around him changed rather dramatically. Instead of just watching two sides battle it out from above, he was beginning to experience a bunker of battered, run down soldiers holding out for their very lives against a relentless force. There were a few quarians sitting against the wall in the hallway he stepped into, their guns held loosely at their side due to the fact that they no longer had the strength to keep up the fight. It was very dim inside despite the blinding nature of the sun against the white washed terrain, and most of the light was offered by reflection from outside or by one of the many lingering fires. Expectedly, the noise inside was louder than it was outside. The sound of all manner of weapons firing reverberated endlessly throughout the ship, and the sound of incoming shots hitting and ricocheting off of walls and metal only made it worse. Every now and again a hallway would flash as it was illuminated by sparks generated by geth pulse rifle shots penetrating the thrashed outer hull.

            The quarian who locked up the door, who was holding an assault rifle in one hand and had a huge, heavily modified rocket launcher strapped across her back, approached Kevin with the obvious intent of asking him questions. Kevin stopped that before it could begin by bringing an index finger up in front of the quarian and asking about what he needed to find. He had to shout in order for his voice to be heard above the deafening ambiance.

            “Who's in charge here?” he asked.

            The quarian surprisingly didn't hesitate to give him an answer and shouted back while she pointed a finger down the hall. “You'll want to see Captain Kortel! She's at the far side of the ship! You'll need to take this hallway to the end and take a left followed by a right into a large room! You should see her on a level up overlooking the flats!”

            Kevin nodded in thanks and immediately turned to follow the directions given to him. Before he could get anywhere, though, his arm was grabbed to get his attention and he stopped. He looked back to the quarian to see what else she had to say as he knew time was short.

            “Keep your head down, human! We've already lost too many to the incoming stray fire!”

            “Duly noted, thanks,” Kevin replied as the girl ran off to return to her post.

            Kevin once again turned to head down the hallway, but this time he moved a bit slower and a bit lower to the ground. As he moved, he observed his surroundings. He had never been in a quarian ship before, destroyed or otherwise. If there was one word to describe it so far, it was the word ‘cramped’. It wasn't just the fact that the entire place was a complete mess from the crash, but more so the fact that the hallways and rooms were small to begin with. He also noted that the ship must have come to rest upside down as the doors to the adjacent rooms and hallways connected flush to the ceiling rather than the floor. Most of the rooms he had passed so far were either empty or a chaotic mess from the crash, and all seemed to lack doors of any kind. Occasionally he would pass by a room that looked as though it had been repurposed from something with function to a stockpile for materials. Whether it was useful items or refuse, he couldn't tell.

            As he neared the end of the hallway, the intensity of the battle grew. He could hear more incoming shots, see more flashes, and the ambient noise heightened in volume. The moment he took the left at the end of the hallway, the reality of just where he was immediately changed; He went from being behind the frontlines to being _on_ the frontlines. The room immediately to his left inside the larger hall was larger than the others, and had several quarians occupying it, all of which were in some manner of makeshift bedding. Kevin deduced that this is where the quarians injured beyond combat effectiveness went. He was almost surprised to find that there were no doctors tending the wounded or medical supplies anywhere. They must have exhausted their surviving stock. Kevin’s brow creased as he realized these quarians, barely off of the frontlines, weren’t expected to survive. This wasn't a makeshift forward med-bay, it was a room full of deathbeds.

            Some of the quarians looked over at him. They didn't make much for noise that could be heard over the sound of gunfire, and Kevin couldn't even tell if they were glad to see him or not. Their masks prevented almost any emotional read. After a brief moment of looking at the out of place human in the room, the quarians, one by one, laid their heads back down in the most depressing fashion Kevin could stand. Just by looking at them Kevin could see their grave injuries. He knew that antibiotics wouldn't stop those infections, and he knew others understood that more than he did. He spent no more time lingering in this grim room. He couldn’t bear the sight of so many just waiting to die for much longer.

            There was one more room on his left before the first right that the girl mentioned earlier. For some reason inexplicable even to him, Kevin looked inside the unlit room whose door was flush on both ceiling and floor. The light that fell into the room showed him that this scene was even grizzlier than the last. Quarian bodies, suit and all, lay heaped and scattered around the room. Some had obvious fatal injuries, some were missing limbs, and some were just a meaty, bloody mess. The floor was coated in a film of congealing quarian blood which had begun to seep out into the hall he was in. From the look of the swipe marks on the floor just outside the doorless entryway, the blood had already been swept back into the room on multiple occasions. That was most likely to prevent the floor in the hall from becoming slick during the firefight. It was the frontline morgue, and there were more bodies in here than could be accounted for in Tyr's count of how many were alive when he left.

            Kevin shook his head and moved on. The doorway to the room on the right he was instructed to go to was just ahead. As soon as he turned inside, he could tell this was where all the action was taking place. Holes dotted the outer wall and the ceiling was missing for about three or four decks. There was enough remaining floor space remaining on each deck clinging to the outside walls so that one could carefully move along the catwalk-style walkway and engage the enemy through the rifts torn into the hull. Each deck was connected on opposite ends of the room via makeshift ramps made of salvage and scrap going from deck to deck. Kevin spotted multiple quarians bunkered down on various decks along the outer wall, firing out at the geth who were no doubt on the approach. One was frantically, yet carefully, traveling between them all on a desperate mission to ration out thermal clips and food to those tasked with holding the line. Stray fire was constantly coming in and from more than one direction, which caused sparks to fly just about anywhere Kevin looked. There was a lot of shouting not being done over the comms channel, and though it was incoherent to Kevin's ears above the gunfire, he knew it was military related information.

            Before he even had a chance to fully scope out the environment, he spotted a spray of blood burst forth from one of the two quarians on the next deck up. The one victim staggered backwards and fell down to the ground floor in front of Kevin where he joined a small number of other perforated and crudely bent bodies. Though the difference in height between the two decks was not substantial, the quarian fell directly on his or her head with a sickening crunch. If he wasn't dead before, he was surely dead now. Kevin instantly feared that his chance to talk with the captain had vanished in that instant. Not more than a few seconds later, he heard the announcement of the quarian's death over the comms channel.

            _“Haathah is down! Haathah is down!”_

            Kevin breathed a sigh of relief – it wasn’t her. Simply looking at the quarians to determine their rank was impossible from here. They all looked like armored quarians with various colored cloths wrapped tightly around their environmental suits. Fortunately, there was now only one quarian on the next deck up firing out at the geth, so finding the captain wasn’t an issue anymore. Getting to her without taking a shot was a different issue entirely. The ramp to the second deck, which was made of piled up debris from the crash, was on the far side of the large room and the entire first floor was a veritable no-man's land due to all the incoming fire and stark lack of cover. To Kevin's relief, however, there was a groove in the floor deep enough for him to crouch through without exposing himself that ran all the way to the far side. Kevin hopped down into the cramped groove, which looked like a light housing, and squat-walked along. It reminded him of old images of trenches from World War Two back on Earth. If he didn't have a helmet on, he would swear that his hair was getting singed off from all the close-call shots that passed right over his head as he made his way through.

            Now that he was well into the bunker the feeling of a desperate military hold-out set in a bit more firmly. It reminded him of some bad times his squad fell into back in the year he was in the Alliance, and it brought a lot of his old military discipline to the surface. He picked up his and made sure his steps were more calculated as he climbed the ramp and began to make his way across the catwalk to where the quarian captain was gunning from. Unfortunately, she was using a thick portion of hull between two open tears for cover and Kevin had to cross a lot of open exposure to get to her. The fissure was low enough to the catwalk in some areas that he had to crawl in order to avoid exposing himself. It was a good thing he did. As he crawled, a small number of shots nicked the edge of the hole above him, causing a few sparks to roll down over his suit and onto the floor he crawled on. Soon enough, though, he was across and pressing his back against the cover much in the same way as the quarian next to him did between bursts of fire. He did his best to not knock over a short stack of unused thermal clips that sat between him and the captain.

            “Captain Kortel, I presume?” Kevin shouted in opening. He could barely hear himself over the other shouts and gunfire.

            The quarian captain ceased fire, sat back against the wall, and took a quick breather before she turned her head to greet the newcomer.

            “So you're the HVI Garloh was covering? Glad to see you made it here without getting shot.”

            Their conversation was briefly interrupted by a geth pulse bolt hitting the edge of the open hole where the captain was just previously shooting from, and they both suddenly ducked out of reflex as more sparks showered the area.

            “I have a lot of questions about why you're out here,” the captain said, “but we have more important things to worry about. Namely, why are you on my ship?”

            “I was in the area. Heard you could use a ride,” Kevin all too calmly replied.

            The captain took another moment to lean over and fire another burst of shots, stopping just short of having to eject her thermal clip.

            “So you have a ship, then?” she asked, sounding both relieved as much as surprised. “Where is it?”

            “Back at your camp. I have someone inside ready to get us out of here the moment we're aboard.”

            The quarian paused to make sure she fully understood was she was being told. “Keelah… You've made this captain's day.” The quarian captain activated her comms channel and called out to some of the others in the ship.

            “Welkas! Rolush!”

            _“Ma'am?”_ two males simultaneously replied.

            “Double back to the camp and start loading our surviving cargo onto the ship you'll find there.”

            _“There's a ship, ma'am?”_ one of the two asked, obviously shocked to hear that there was any ship at all.

            “Get moving!” the captain ordered. “I don't need you two arguing orders too!”

            _“Sorry ma'am. On our way.”_

            “Garloh,” the captain once again called out, “As you heard, two will be coming up the path to the camp. It’s now your job to make sure that path is clear, understand?”

            _“Understood, ma'am,”_ Tyr replied as calm as ever.

            It was now Kevin's turn to radio in.

            “Ralik, this is Kevin. There will be two quarians arriving at the camp shortly. Their job is to load whatever cargo they can onto the ship. Make sure the ramp is down.”

            _“Will do, Kevin,”_ Ralik said. _“So they're actually alive down there?”_

            “Yes,” Kevin replied, almost irritated at such a comment. “Some of them at least. And I'd like to keep it that way.”

            “What's your name, human?” the captain asked.

            “Kevin Folner.”

            She looked down at the assault rifle Kevin was carrying with him. “Can you shoot that thing, Folner?”

            “Military trained, ma'am.” Kevin found himself denoting her authority even though she wasn't his captain. Stranger still, it didn't bother him as much as he'd have thought.

            “Good, because I just lost two gunners and you're their replacement. Get on a window and start providing covering fire.” As soon as she finished giving him orders, she turned to start shooting out of the window again and the intensity of the firefight was back up to where it was before Kevin had arrived.

            It had been a long time since Kevin had been given orders and simply expected to follow them. Those years working as a mercenary had dulled his senses to what authority actually was. This, however, was no time to play the rogue soldier. They all had to work together in order to get out of this alive, and he had no intention of disrupting any remnants of the well-oiled machine of military structure. He shimmied over to the tear he had to crawl under before and started using that as his firing window.

            For the first time since he'd arrived, he got a good look at the battlefield as the defenders saw it. Multiple geth approached in the distance, all firing blindly at the structure they perceived as a threat. He could see the blue-tinted tracer bolts from the geth pulse rifles fly by him and hit the hull somewhere on the outside or make it through to the inside. Suddenly he found himself with a lot of questions about these tactics. He knew the geth weren't the most militarily strategic species in the galaxy, but this approach made no sense to him. He didn't have time to ponder this now, though, and he took aim through the sight of his rifle and fired a few burst rounds. At this range, he wasn't likely to place most, even some of his shots on a geth, but he could quickly see what strategy the quarians were using to take the geth out.

            They each took rotating turns firing on certain geth out in the open in order to at least nick at the kinetic barriers of each individual geth soldier. As long as they were taking fire, their barrier systems would have no chance to recharge. Eventually each geth would take one or two fatal hits after being constantly shot at from numerous sources. Additionally, the quarians fired in sequence. Some fired while others waited. This helped prolong the use of each thermal clip so that they would have extras if they encountered a moment when they weren't able to stop firing before the clip had to be ejected. Once Kevin picked up on these strategies, he followed suit.

            After several more minutes of this style of fighting, the number of attacking geth finally dropped down to zero. He heard one of the quarians yell something about a break in the geth's numbers. Or maybe it was something about being able to take a break. Either way, Kevin took this moment to move back over to the captain so they could talk more. He saw the other quarians moving around as well. The one distributing clips and food was gone now, likely having been one of the two that went back to the ship. The remaining quarians first tasked themselves with gathering clips from the one they called Haathah before moving his body and the others to the morgue that Kevin got a look at earlier. Once that was finished, they moved over to where the food and clips to be distributed were, and divvied up the remains amongst the survivors. One of them called up to the captain and tossed several clips up to her.

            “Why have the geth stopped?” Kevin asked the captain.

            “One of their recent strategic developments. It's their way of finding out how well armed we still are. Within the next few minutes, you will see a small dropship fly in very close. There are no troops in it at all since its purpose is to see if it will be shot down. If it _is_ shot down, then that means we'll simply shoot down any loaded dropships that get close and they have to continue supplying troops out beyond our effective range like they have been. If not, then I expect a full on close range drop and assault. They'll attempt to breach and take us out from within.”

            “Why haven't they just bombarded the site? Why waste all these resources?”

            “I haven't quite figured that out yet,” she admitted. “It's almost as if they are fighting us while we hold something of high value to them, but I can't think for the life of me what that might be. Either way, it's saved our lives so I don't spend too much time trying to figure it out.”

            Kevin nodded. That might explain the lack of colossus use as well. If they can't drop them in close, then they're simply big targets out in the distance. Even their armaments can't punch the hull of a ship from there.

            Suddenly the nerve-wracking hum of a dropship was the only thing that could be heard amidst the moment of relative silence. The quarians all scattered, heading back to their positions and the captain called out to yet another quarian in the ship.

            “Merni?”

            _“In position, ma'am.”_ It sounded like the quarian that greeted Kevin at the door. It would make sense considering the massive armament she had on her back.

            Kevin looked outside the closest hole in the hull to see what was going on. Just like the captain said, a geth dropship was flying in closer than the others did. It hardly got the chance to hover in place for more than a second before the loud pop of a launched explosive projectile echoed around the bunker. Within the second, a smoke trail pointed out the fired projectile as it blatantly ignored kinetic barriers and met the broadside of the dropship. Flames instantly but briefly engulfed the ship, and what was left was definitely damaged beyond repair. It rocked violently in place, and the hum all but vanished once the explosion’s eco faded. Soon after that it quickly sank to the surface and erupted once again on impact, joining its destroyed brethren on the planet's surface.

            “The thing about this strategy,” the quarian next to Kevin started to explain, “The more downed dropships there are, the more cover the geth have to get in closer. It's like we're slowly killing ourselves while we prevent immediate defeat. Depressing, huh?”

            “A wonderfully positive attitude, captain,” Kevin sarcastically replied.

            “A wonderfully positive attitude can make you blind,” she noted. “We've all resigned ourselves to death already, with the intention of making the geth's losses equally as great. Then you showed up.”

            “I always did like to make a great and fashionably late entrance,” Kevin stated.

            “I hope you can make just as great an exit.”

            _“Here comes the next wave, ma'am!”_ A yet unknown female quarian announced.

            “Ready yourself. They always start with two dropships. It's the toughest part of the wave,” the captain said as she brought her rifle up to the window. “I hope you brought thermal clips.”

            Just then, two dropships fell in altitude in the distance and lined themselves up behind old wrecks of other dropships. Each one shot out eight geth troopers down to the surface with the resulting thuds sounding like distant pops from a vehicle mounted mass accelerator.

            “Ready for my mark…” the captain ordered. It seemed they had this geth shooting business down to a science. They waited for the distant geth to appear from around the wrecks and start their approach across the open ground. “Fireteams two and three start your rounds…  Now!” Immediately the silence in the air was shattered and gunfire took its place.

            “What team am I?” Kevin asked the captain.

            “Two and three.”

            “That figures,” Kevin said as he began firing.

            This round was a bit different than the last. The geth were moving in at a new angle now since the dropship they just shot down landed closer than the others. More shots were actually aimed rather than just simply shot at the structure. This caused each of the quarians and Kevin to duck behind cover more often, disrupting the sequential flow of fire. The geth made it much closer this time, but in the end the initial push was destroyed. Once the normal flow of geth started to pour in around the closest downed ship, the fireteams had started to regulate their shot sequences with the additional time for cover figured in. When all was said and done, that wave had lasted a good half an hour. Finally another break in the constant and seemingly controlled chaos came about.

            While everyone moved to gather what was left of the thermal clips, a message from the two up at the camp came in.

            _“Captain Kortel, this is Rolush.”_

“Tell me everything is all set up there, Rolush,” the captain said anxiously.

            _“We have a problem!”_

“You know I don't like problems, Rolush. What is it?”

            _“The geth blind-dropped a colossus on our camp!”_ All of the quarians stopped dead in their tracks and looked up to captain Kortel. _“Almost all of the cargo is loaded. Just a few more crates to go. We had to pull those crates over for cover. We're with Garloh right now on the wrong side of the valley.”_

“What's the status of the colossus?” the captain asked, voice calm and calculating.

            _“It landed on an outcropping and took major damage to one of its legs. All it can do is turn in place, slowly. The real issue is that it's focusing its fire on the ship, and if we try to get to it we'll be gunned down within seconds. What should we do?”_

The captain took a moment to think. The timing of this couldn't have come at a worse moment. She looked over to the quarian bearing the massive launcher and called up to Rolush.

            “I'm sending Merni to assist. Cover her approach and take that bosh'tet down.”

            “But captain, the dropships—” Merni started in protest, but was suddenly cut off by her captain.

            “We'll handle the dropships. You handle the colossus. That's our _only_ way out of this mess, Merni. We'll evacuate the moment that thing goes down.”

            It was clear Merni wanted to hesitate, but she didn't. “Yes ma'am. On my way.”

            “Ralik,” Kevin called to his ship as the quarian started out of the room.

            _“I assume you've heard?”_ Ralik asked.

            “Yes. Can the kinetic barriers hold for a few more minutes?”

            _“Perhaps. Those big projectiles hit hard. Tell me you have a plan for this, because I can't face the ship's cannon at it without risking nicking a tree or rock and tipping the ship into the ground.”_

“We have a plan, Ralik. Hold tight.”

            Right then, they all heard the sound of a geth dropship hovering in close. Everyone looked at each other for a moment before scattering back to their gunning position.

            “New plan, people,” the captain announced. “We all need to make sure we have the ability to change position quickly. You must be ready to evacuate on my order whether the colossus is down or not. That means no high positions unless you have a clear – and I mean _clear_ – path to the back.”

            “What about the injured?” Kevin asked.

            “Don't talk to me about the injured right now.”

            Kevin bit his tongue. It was obvious she knew what had to be done, and that meant the injured couldn't come along if she wanted any hope of getting those that can move out alive. He could tell in her tone of voice that she was far, far from satisfied about the outcome for them at all, and that she alone was the decision maker for that outcome. He wasn't one for leaving injured combatants behind, and even less for leaving injured civilians, but these were not his people. Instead of voicing his opinion, however, he simply nodded. She was _their_ captain after all, not his.

            They all bunkered into their new positions and pocketed any stacks of thermal clips that remained. Most of them lined up on the second deck wall with the captain and Kevin where they could easily get a shot at geth that dropped right in front of them. A few took positions in the back on a higher deck where they could drop out onto the back path through a tear overlooking it. Any minute now they would be facing a close ranged assault that they knew they couldn't win. The hum of the empty dropship hovering over them was like a mocking reminder of that, and it only seemed to get louder. And louder.

            And louder.

            “Three dropships inbound!” someone shouted.

            “Steady!” the captain shouted. “This is why we are Migrant Fleet Marines! Wait for my mark!”

            Suddenly the thuds of multiple geth troops hitting the ground right outside the hull caused the ground to shake and multiple marines to tighten their grip on their weapons. Kevin drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. Things were about to get ugly real fast. Once the thuds stopped, the captain gave the order to start the counterattack.

            “Let's bring the pain, marines! Fire at will and don't let them reach this ship!”

            All at once, everybody at a forward position jumped up and brought a rain of death down on the geth who had just happened to be within the area of fire. Most fell, but enough remained to hold the position and fire back at those above, which caused Kevin and those at the front to duck for cover before their kinetic barriers were drained. That submissive position was short-lived, however, as nobody wanted the geth to gain enough of a foothold to start breaching the damaged parts of the hull at ground level. There was a short exchange of fire before the last remaining geth of the initial drop fell.

            Unfortunately the sound of more incoming dropships filled the air and a new set of geth troops were already being dropped as the first set fell. Kevin and the others knew that there would be no quarter from here on, so they focused fire on the unfolding geth hoping to take some out before they could pull out weapons. When the survivors of the set unfolded, weapons were immediately drawn and fired. Kevin's barrier had nearly been depleted, so he had to duck down again until they could recharge. Fortunately most of the other quarians could still take some fire before ducking behind cover, so the suppressive fire hadn't quite ceased.

            Kevin decided to take this time to gather dark energy to himself. He decided to supplement his suit's weak kinetic barriers with a biotic barrier to keep him in the fight longer. After his shields were replenished, he threw his biotic barrier around himself and jumped back up to get more shots on the geth. When he could see over his cover again, he realized just how short this battle was going to be. The number of geth they faced had doubled since he went down for cover. He wasted no time in letting loose a full barrage from his rifle, ejecting a clip and continuing. He saw his biotic barrier taking hits, but he knew it would take more than a couple shots to take it down.

            “They're starting to breach! Directly below!”

            “Wait, I have this one!” Another quarian shouted as he climbed the  ramp to the catwalk where Kevin, the captain, and several other marines were holding out. He hurdled over several until he was a good way in, and he up and tossed something through the fissure with as much downward direction as he could manage. “Bela says hi!”

            There was a large explosion below them and a brief curtain of flame rose up outside the holes in the hull. It was no more than a second later that everyone was up shooting again. The goal was to hold them off as long as possible, and so far they were doing pretty well at it. Unfortunately, as soon as the geth below them were destroyed by the grenade, the dense crowd behind them filled in the space. One of the quarians took up a slightly higher position and began to shoot down on the crowd where the rest couldn't hit. He had to duck for cover pretty soon though, as the geth quickly noticed his location and opened fire, nearly getting through his barriers. These back and forth exchanges just kept on going.

            There was a pop from outside and Kevin saw a smoke trail heading up towards where the other quarian took up a new position. The rocket made it through the ruptured hull and hit the wall behind the quarian. The resulting explosion tore through his already depleted shields and his armor while sending him crashing down to the ground floor below. Merely seconds later his death was announced.

            “Heads up, marines. Nulor just got taken out by a distortion rocket!”

            “Rocket class? Ancestors help us,” captain Kortel said.

            “They're breaching again, and I think we're out of grenades!”

            “New positions, people!” the captain called out. “Prepare to counter the breach as long as we can before we evac out the back door!” With that said she dropped her last grenade out the firing window and jumped down to the first floor.

            Everyone on that same catwalk followed suit down a floor and bunkered themselves just inside the exiting hallway, using the brief lull in the attack the grenade had granted them to their advantage. As expected, it wasn't long before the geth resumed cutting their way through the weakened hull at the base. Sparks and a trailing lined of molten metal signaled their progress. Kevin looked around him to the exhausted quarian marines still defiantly holding the base of this valley. The tense atmosphere that filled their ranks while waiting for their inevitable defeat was taking a toll on their morale and one rookie marine tried to back up and out the hallway so he could get an early start for the ship. The captain wasn’t having any of that, though, and she grabbed him by the shoulder and looked him straight in the visor. She said something Kevin couldn’t here and the rookie looked to the floor before returning to his post.

            Within a couple minutes, the geth had breached through completely and the cut-out portion fell back into the ship. Quickly following the heavy metal _thunk_ was a near constant stream of geth troops filing into the previously secure holdout. No one needed an order from the captain to start saturating the forced entry with gunfire in a vain attempt to prevent them from gaining a foothold with their numbers.

            Kevin had to back up past the morgue to take up a new position, and the only cover here was the doorless entry to the room with the deathbeds. He, the captain, and one other male quarian took position here. Much to their dismay, however, several of the injured picked their heads up to look at them as they stood there. Not one of the three of them could help but be terribly distracted, as they all knew that those starting were only minutes from the death they should have been granted a while ago.

            “Folner, Votis, hold here a moment. Keep providing cover fire as long as you can.” The captain broke off from her defensive position to go talk to the injured in the room.

            The people guarding the entrance to the hallway had to fall back. As they did, a rocket entered into the hallway, threatening to take everyone out in one blow. One of the quarians, who seemed to have already been shot in the side, chose the warrior's way out and intentionally lingered, blocking the path of the rocket. The explosion rocked them all and only one other was taken by the blast, but that one quarian, who looked like the rookie that tried to retreat earlier, effectively saved the rest. As the one remaining in front of Kevin and Votis had backtracked to cover behind them, they resumed stalling the geth advance with more fire.

            “Blasted synths,” Votis spat sounding rather enraged. “No captain should ever have to tell her injured that she has to abandon them. It's either stay here and defend them for a few extra minutes and die, or leave them behind in order to save our own hides. I do _not_ envy the captain right now.”

            The onslaught of geth continued to pour in at them, but with the numbers reduced due to having to file into a tight corridor, they were a bit easier to hold off. At least until the female quarian who had just backed up and taken cover behind them ran out of thermal clips.

            “I'm out of thermals!”

            Votis spun around and tossed a thermal clip to her. “Last one, Tavval. Make it last. Captain?”

            Right then the captain solemnly stepped out of the room. “Pack it up, we're leaving.”

            “Yes ma'am,” all the remaining combatants replied.

            They started their exit by holding the final corner before the long straight hallway back to the door that leads out to the path up the hills.

            “Tavval!” The captain shouted. “Get that door open on the double!”

            “Yes ma'am!” she shouted as she pulled up her sniper rifle and booked it for the door down the hall.

            “We need to hold this spot! We aren't going anywhere until we can sprint out that door!” The captain ordered.

            Now there was a hallway full of geth bearing down on them and Votis was on his last clip. Kevin dug a clip out of his arm pocket in anticipation of the moment when Votis would need it. A rocket flew out at them so they all ducked into the hallway and behind the corner they were using for cover. It missed them entirely and continued down the rest of the hallway behind them where it detonated harmlessly. Kevin picked out the rocket class geth among the ever growing group down the hall and took as careful aim as the moment would allow. Shooting down there was like shooting at a wall of kinetic barriers.

            “I'm out of clips!” Votis called out, right as Kevin was sighting on the rocket launching geth.

            “Here!” Kevin said, tossing the clip he held in his hand over his shoulder.

            “Thanks,” Votis said, hesitantly. “That tall one on the left is the rocket class unit. If I get its shields down, can you take it out before it fires again?”

            “I bet my life on it,” Kevin confidently stated as he replaced his own last clip.

            Votis began unleashing a fully automatic rain of fire towards that particular geth. He had two geth shields to get through before the destructive geth would be exposed. Votis' rifle would not be denied, however, and the kinetic barriers of both the rocket launcher and the geth in front of it were downed. Taking this moment to aim, Kevin shot several bursts at the target, and was pleasantly surprised when both heads exploded in a shower of sparks from the volleys.

            _“Door's open! Come on, this party's over, let's go!”_

            “Run for the door! Go!” the captain called out as they started a sprint for their only exit. Once they were all outside, Tavval shut the heavy door behind them.

            The captain turned around and took a deep breath. “Get this door sealed. I don't want any of them enjoying the view.”

            “View of what?” Kevin asked.

            No one answered him. Instead, Tavval and Votis set to work melting the edges of the door to the edges of the hull with their omni-tools.

            “View of _what_?” Kevin asked once again. Still there was no answer.

            “Alright, that's good enough. Let's get out of here.” the captain ordered.

            They all started their way back up the hill. Despite the fact that Tyr was focusing on the colossus, there were no geth in sight all the way up the hill. That was good news, as that would mean their trek up would be free and clear. To their dismay, however, the fight at the camp with the colossus could still be heard going on, and none of them had much of anything in the way of thermal clips or other means to battle it. To add to that and make things worse the sound of a dropship began to echo from overhead.

            Captain Kortel went to go alert Merni over the comms of the incoming dropship, but she never got the chance. A high-powered rocket was already on its way to greet the dropship from the camp. The explosion was beautiful and the sight of the loaded dropship crashing into the flats behind them was equally as striking.

            “She's good,” Tavval noted.

            “Alright, it's time,” the captain stated as she halted her hike and turned around to face the bunker that saved their lives all this time. Now it was full of geth troops. She tapped on her omni-tool a few times, waited a moment and then tapped on it again. When she was done, she slowly raised her head to stare at the wreckage at the base of the hill. The entire thing erupted in a massive explosion. It was so big that the flame rose up into the air and created a classic mushroom cloud and the shockwave knocked all four of them over.

            _“No! The captain!”_ Tyr shouted over the radio.

            “It's alright, Garloh,” Kortel assured. “A few of us made it out alive. We're almost to the camp.” She let loose a long, solemn sigh and turned to head up the path again. “Let's move.”

            _“A… few?”_ Rolush rhetorically asked.

As the four survivors from the battle in the ship came up the hill and turned their last corner, their moods were already improving. The first sight they caught of the troublesome colossus was that of its head exploding due to taking a rocket in the ‘face’. The massive form of the colossus trembled and then collapsed amid its own sparks.

            When colossus fell to the ground, it revealed what was right behind it; a magnificent, shiny, and most importantly, fully functional frigate. Kevin stepped ahead of the three quarians returning with him and turned around to face them and walk backwards. He extended his arms out on each side in introduction and smiled beneath his helmet.

            “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you…” Kevin started before turning around to face his ship. “The Kellius!”

            Rolush, Garloh, Merni, and Welkas were already cheering from having taken down a colossus, but now Votis and Tavval joined in with them at having actually been saved. They all even used the comms channel to transmit their victory, and Kevin couldn't help but smile despite all that had just happened. The surviving quarians were very, very happy to see that ship.

            “Alright, alright,” the captain said in a less depressed tone, “Welkas, Rolush, let's get the last few crates on the Kellius and get out of this nightmare.”

            “Yes ma'am!” Welkas and Rolush answered in tandem, still half cheering. One of them hopped into the other in small celebration.

            As they got to work, Kevin led the rest of the quarians onto the Kellius via loading ramp. The cargo bay was now full to the point that there was almost no room to walk. The two that loaded the cargo clearly thought ahead, though, since there was a path right down the center comfortably wide enough for one person. Kevin lead them through the double doors at the back of the bay, right up to the first deck, and towards the front of the ship where they could either sit down at the briefing table or accompany him to the bridge where Ralik was still sitting. Tyr, Merni, and Votis decided to have a seat while captain Kortel and Tavval followed. The three that sat set their weapons down on the table and took a much needed breather.

            “Nice frigate you've got here, Folner,” Kortel admitted. “Looks brand new.”

            “I like to keep it well maintained,” Kevin replied.

            “Where's the crew?” Tavval asked.

            “You're looking at it,” Ralik responded as he spun his chair to be visible to the others.

            Kortel leaned back on one leg and folded her arms in disbelief. “Just you two?”

            “Well there's also—” Kevin started, only to be cut off by none other than his favorite assistant.

            “Alert! Multiple unknown alien life forms have boarded the ship.”

            “—Terra. The ship's VI and systems control in times of need. Terra, all of these life forms are quarian, and they are permitted. I give them authorization to board.”

            “Would you like to construct profiles—” This time Kevin cut Terra off, in an almost intentional fit of revenge.

            “Later. Right now we need to go before more geth show up. Ralik, if you don't mind?”

            “I do mind, Kevin,” Ralik snapped with impressive amounts of serenity. “But I also agree. See? Here they come.” He gestured towards the forward viewports to make his point. All four of the people on the bridge looked out through the viewports and saw more geth troops turning the corner on the far end of the valley.

            “Well aren't they persistent,” Kevin grumbled. “See if you can give them a little thruster surprise, Ralik.”

            “With pleasure,” Ralik replied with a growing smirk.

            The Kellius then activated the mass effect drive core and started to lift off. Downward thrusters lifted the ship away from the surface enough to be above the trees before the whole ship started to spin. It turned one hundred and eighty degrees and angled the nose up in preparation for leaving the planet. Ralik waited in that position patiently, though, and soon the geth started to gather behind the ship as they fired pointlessly at it. Just a moment later, when Ralik was satisfied with the number of geth that had gathered, he punched on the thrusters. The obscene amount of heat generated by the ship's thrusters burned through all the vegetation, scorched the surface, and mostly vaporized any and all geth unfortunate enough to gather behind the Kellius. At the same time, the frigate jetted off towards open space away from the unknown white planet and away from the geth.


	10. Chapter Nine

### Chapter Nine

            “Captain Kortel, what should we be setting for a destination?” Kevin asked while turning from the viewports to face her.

            “Hmm.” Kortel paused and brought a fist to the chin of her helmet. “Normally I'd say to drop us off on a station for pickup, but… this crew has endured enough. Set a course for the Raheel-Layya system within the Valhallan Threshold.”

            “Captain!” Tavval called out with a sudden jerk forward.

            The captain threw up a hand between her and Tavval. “Not now, Tavval. We’re not in any condition to unnecessarily extend this trip.”

            “I take it we're going…” Kevin leaned on the back of the pilot’s chair and stared intently at the captain.

            “Yes,” she nodded in turn, “we're going right to the Migrant Fleet.”

            “That takes us _away_ from the An'Ramini expanse, Kevin,” Ralik said as he looked back to the human.

            Kevin slapped the back of his shipmate’s head.

            Ralik recoiled and looked back to Kevin again. “What, you thought I was serious? Yes, yes, course is laid. We're changing direction now.” He shook his head and stood from the pilot’s chair. Without further ado, the salarian quickly sulked his way out of the bridge and into a seat at the briefing table in order to join the growing party back there. Rolush and Welkas had just arrived from the hold and taken seats, so the trio remaining in the bridge joined them.

            The captain slapped her hands together. “I suppose now is as good a time as any for introductions, hm? Marines, these are our saviors.” First she pointed to the salarian. “Ralik…”

            “Dolannus,” he said with dismissive wave. “Ralik Dolannus. Greetings and all that.”

            “And everyone’s at least seen this one help us out planet-side.” Siri said as she casually pointed to Kevin, who was only now removing his helmet. “This is Kevin Folner.”

            “We’re in your debt, kid,” Tyr chimed in as he shakily took a seat to rest his leg.

            Kevin remained silent and simply bowed his head in acknowledgement.

            Meanwhile, the captain crossed the room in order to join her compatriots at the other end of the table. “Line up, marines, by rank. Welkas, by me. And for the love of the Fleet, don't make Garloh stand up.”

            As ordered, the quarians moved to the aft side of the table where Tyr sat to line up according to rank. They moved with an organized haste that caused Kevin’s brow to rise. He wasn’t used to seeing quarians do that.

            “State your rank and name for the captain of the Kellius,” Kortel said with a subtle and direct flick of her hand.

            The first quarian on the left stepped forward with a practiced stance. He saluted by firmly bringing his right fist to his chest. “Serviceman Second Class Kar'Welkas of the Migrant Fleet Marines!” He donned a classic exo-suit with a dark-blue helmet visor. There were fewer colored cloths covering the machine-gray of his suit, but the aqua, olive, and turquoise colors were easily distinguishable and proudly displayed. When he was finished, he stepped back into line.

            Kortel placed a hand on her hip and flicked a thumb at the first marine. “Kar'Welkas is fresh off of the Migrant Fleet training regimen. He ended up training for an extra year due to his perceived passion for piloting. He was transferred to our ship, the Forverna, to be our pilot for this mission. We primarily have him to thank for surviving that crash. His skills at the helm are more than notable.”

            Once she finished her introduction of Kar'Welkas, Kortel moved on to the second and shortest quarian of the bunch. The captain gestured for her to do as Welkas had done and the short quarian stepped forward.

            “Private First Class Bela'Merni of the Migrant Fleet Marines!” Her accent was heavier than any other quarian that actually spoke in the common trade language, but it was still easily understandable. Her exo-suit was more modified than Welkas', and it had a large number of straps and hooks with secured gear from her mid-section all the way down to her thighs. Consequently, she jingled a bit when she moved. She sported a mix of bright, bold cloth colors wrapped under her gear. Pale pink and blaring crimson wrapped around her limbs were dominated by the deep and profound blue she wore as a hood and over her torso.

            The captain gently placed a hand on Bela’s head and gave it a friendly wobble. “Bela'Merni is, as you likely have guessed by now, our heavy weapons expert. She is also the youngest quarian I know of to have such proficiency in this dangerous field of work. In the flotilla, the Merni clan has generally been well known for maintaining weaponry of a large scale, namely the weapons of various Migrant Fleet vessels. She also likes explosions.”

            Kevin smirked. “You’re awfully little for that kind of task, aren’t you? No offense intended, but don’t you tire easily from lugging so much gear around?”

            Bela stepped forward and pointed a stiff index finger right at Kevin’s chest. “I’ll fill you in on a little Merni clan adage, Folner. 'Don't judge me by my size, judge me by the size of my gun.'”

            Kortel gave Bela a brief stare and the little fireball sighed before returning to her salute. The captain turned her gaze back to Kevin and she tilted her head to the side. “The Merni clan is also well known for having a slight lack in discipline, made up by quite a bit of... spark.”

            Kevin leaned to the side and made an obvious visual pass at Bela’s rocket launcher. “I take it back. Big things in small packages, huh? I bet you’re the life of most parties.”

            Bela shook her head in hardly contained silence while all the other quarians simultaneously chuckled. Kortel also let out a small laugh and moved onto the next quarian. This one was the second one that Kevin did not originally come across planet-side. A simple process of elimination at least told him what this one's clan name was. He found he was right on the money when the next quarian followed the others in due process and announced his name.

            “Private First Class Tosh'Rolush of the Migrant Fleet Marines!” This quarian was a bit more clean-cut than the others in appearance and his accent was less pronounced than any of the others so far. His visor was dark to the point where it almost appeared to be black and his colors were more of a subdued nature. Wrapped more formally, gray was his dominant color followed by olive and maroon. Like Bela, he also had a few items dangling from his armored, pocket-ridden suit, but they were sparsely placed and in much easier to reach locations. They also appeared to be more of a technological nature rather than explosive paraphernalia.

            “Tosh'Rolush is our technology expert,” Kortel explained. “While we all have a degree of aptitude dealing with tech, Tosh's abilities far exceed ours in a number of areas. I have never seen anyone, even a quarian, hack and reprogram as efficiently as he can. He's been a part of various missions dealing with geth and other concerns of the quarian people and he's made it a personal goal to better understand the geth's digital makeup. Ship systems and anything of a scientific nature are favorite subjects of his as well.”

            “If I might be so bold to ask,” Tosh stated with a forward step, “will you permit me to examine the Kellius' systems in detail? I might even be able to help you tweak some of the systems or the VI for the better.”

            “So long as you keep my neck out of trouble, knock yourself out,” Kevin replied. He wasn't worried about the quarian snooping into the systems of the ship all that much. Other than the fact that the ship was technically stolen, he didn't have anything to hide. Considering that the reason any of them were alive at all was because he stole the ship, he figured Tosh could easily overlook that.

            “I appreciate your open trust, Captain Folner,” Tosh said with a bow of the head before stepping back into line to let Kortel continue on. Kevin had thoughts of questioning his sudden promotion to captain, but he decided to bring that up at a more convenient time.

            “Corporal Riik'Votis of the Migrant Fleet Marines!” the next quarian in line stated with a forced enthusiasm that could easily be mistaken for mockery. His voice was deep for a quarian, and his accent was just shy of being on par with Bela. This quarian was black and white, literally. Black and white dominated the suit and armor in a slightly menacing fashion with a bit of his third color, turquoise, lining the details of his armor and helmet. Other than that, his suit was surprisingly almost as basic as Kar's, save for a few combat-related additions.

            “Riik'Votis is one of our most dedicated fighters. He has a relatively high proficiency with a wider array of weapons, and a stalwart attitude to match. While he technically has no specialty outside of weaponized combat, it should be noted that he dedicated his time as a marine to infantry combat.”

            Once Kortel finished her explanation, Riik moved back into line without a word. It seemed to Kevin like he was growing impatient. Nevertheless, the next familiar quarian stepped forward. Rather, he would, if he were not injured and sitting down – to offer his introduction.

            “Gunnery Chief Tyr'Garloh of the Migrant Fleet Marines!” Now that they weren't in the middle of fighting off waves of geth, Kevin was able to notice a few more things about Tyr. His cloths, colored dark orange as the dominant color followed by gold and a touch of maroon, appeared to have been recently moved or rewrapped. There were a couple areas where the armor was hardly visible due to being wrapped along with the suit. His armor itself denoted experience. There were plenty of spots where the normal sheen of polished armor were permanently discolored or slightly dented from close calls with enemy fire. It also looked as though he's made no attempt to reverse the visual wear and tear on his armor, though any degradation in its effectiveness appeared to have been tended to.

            “Tyr'Garloh has a few roles. He's the leading NCO of our company, our combat strategist and chief of our military inventory. Mostly he lets his subordinates deal with the inventory, as his main role, especially now, has always been our combat strategist. He's seen more combat than most quarians at his rank and has dealt with numerous situations successfully, gaining him invaluable experience among our marines. It was his idea to turn the remains of our ship into a bunker to stage our 'last stand' there instead of up at our camp in addition to staggering our fireteams to conserve clips. I think if we stayed on the plateau, we wouldn’t have lasted more than a few hours. Not much of a storyteller though, so don't ask.”

            “How's the wound doing, Tyr?” Kevin asked as he leaned back on the corner going into the neck of the ship.

            “Sealed off and mending, sir. Won't be able to run for a few more days and a light infection is starting in, but considering the crap you just pulled us out of, I'm more than glad to be alive. Luckily there wasn't much for aerial microbes on that planet, so the infection should at least be relatively short-lived.”

            Kevin nodded. “Glad to hear it. We have a full med-bay down the hall. Feel free to use it as you see fit.”

            “Will do, Captain. Thank you again.” Tyr settled into his chair and adjusted himself to be a bit more comfortable for the rest of the introductions. Fortunately for him, there weren't many left.

            The last quarian standing in line stepped forward. “Second Lieutenant Arla'Tavval of the Migrant Fleet Marines!” The first thing Kevin noticed about this quarian was that she had weapon preferences very similar to his. He spotted a pistol on her hip, a knife sheathed on her calf and a sniper rifle holstered on her back. Her colors were a bit easier on the eyes as well—a deep purple and blue offset by a bit of forest green. She wore a bandolier that was currently empty, but was obviously used to carry extra thermal clips without tying up her suits pockets. It made sense seeing as how sniper rifle mass accelerators tended to go through clips faster than traditional rifles and pistols.

            “Arla'Tavval is, other than me, our only surviving officer,” Kortel started to explain. “Additionally, she is also our most accomplished marksman and designated sniper. She has deadly efficiency with any long ranged weaponry, usually in the form of sniper rifles. Counter to this, she was our ship's primary hand-to-hand combat instructor. I’m not sure which specialization game first, but she trained hard in both. As a side note, she has never lost a hand-to-hand duel for as long as I've known her.”

            “Impressive,” Kevin said with a nod. This was interesting to him since close quarters combat was a particular forte of his thanks to his ‘profession’, which he’d spent many months dedicating self-training to in order to improve beyond being merely proficient in CQC. “Maybe we'll scrap later so I can see if my hand-to-hand skills are any good,” he added with a warm smile.

            “Tch,” was Arla's only reply as she turned her head to look away. It was obvious she wasn't interested in teaching anyone anything right now. She stepped back into line without hesitation to let her captain continue with whatever she had planned next.

            “And finally,” Kortel said as she stepped into position at the end of the line, “I am Captain Siri'Kortel of the Migrant Fleet Marines.”

            For a captain, Kevin thought she sported some rather dull colors. Pale yellow and light brown detailed with steel didn't make for a flashy leader. Despite this, her armor was a slight step up from the others in appearance. Her pauldrons were carefully etched with a symbol that filled the face of the otherwise smooth armor. The etching was made up of some elaborate version of what he assumed was a quarian word or words, but it was a single symbol. Elsewise she had no notable ranking insignias that pointed her out as captain.

            “As captain of this crew, I'd like to formally thank you for coming to our aid. At the very least we can tell our story, both to you and to our people. The many that died today will not be forgotten.”

            “I'm sure there's a lot we can all talk about,” Kevin said. “Maybe during a tour of the ship or over a meal?”

            “Perhaps later, captain,” Kortel said regretfully. “We have other things to attend first. If you could please show us where the crew normally bunks, I would be grateful.”

            “I can do that,” Ralik jumped in. “Need a chance to get far away from that blasted helmsman's chair.” Ralik stood from his seat and promptly made his way towards the closest of the two doors on the backside of the briefing room. “Right this way, please.”

            One by one the quarians followed in line behind Ralik and out through the door. When Kar'Welkas was the only one left to exit, Siri caught his arm. “Welkas, inform the others that I will be with them momentarily.”

            “Yes ma'am,” Kar replied with a curt nod before he hurried out to fall in line with the others.

            When the door shut behind him, the room fell awkwardly silent and the barely perceivable hum of the ship suddenly enjoyed aural dominance. Only Kevin and Siri remained in the room now, and Kevin was left wondering why she didn't just follow them out. Before anything was asked or said, she sat down in one of the briefing chairs, put her elbows on the table and rested the front of her helmet in her three-fingered hands. She let out a long exasperated sigh and shook her head.

            “Quite a crew you have,” Kevin said encouragingly, only to realize afterwards how it must have sounded to a captain who just lost a massive portion of said crew. He winced at himself and proceeded to shut up.

            Head in her hands, she said, “That ship held two hundred and thirty two quarians, Kevin. I knew them all by name. I already miss each one.”

            This time he took a brief moment to inventory his words. “With all due respect, captain, shouldn't you be with your crew right now?”

            Her head lifted so she could look at him. “I realize you aren't truly a captain, Kevin, so I will explain this to you. As a captain, I am expected to exhibit a certain level of conduct. To be an example to those under me. It is very rare that I am ever in a position where I _do not_ have to maintain that level of conduct. I just lost _two hundred and twenty six marines_ , each one having trusted me with their lives.” Her head sunk a bit, but she did not put it down a second time. “I need a moment.”

            Kevin shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend.”

            She gazed at him again through that obscuring visor. “Don't be, because I'm not. I'm truly thankful that you showed up when you did… though I personally would have preferred a sooner extraction. My biggest fear was that the tale of the Forverna would be lost to the abyss of unexplored space. At least now we can tell others of those who fought to the very end of their lives for a cause that involves all of the quarian people.”

            “What were you doing way out here anyways?”

            “If I asked you that same question, would you answer me?”

            “Probably not until I trusted you more,” Kevin said with a growing smile and a nod. “Point taken.”         

            The conversation lapsed for a moment, then Siri sighed heavily and stood from her chair. “Praying to our ancestors is not really our thing,” Siri started, “but we will likely be doing a lot of that tonight. I would like to ask that we not be disturbed for a while. We will grieve, and then we will rest. Those kids have earned at least that much.”

            “I'll try to keep Ralik under control.”

            “Thank you, captain.”

            “And if it's all the same to you guys, I'd much rather you stayed captain and I just stayed Kevin.”

            “It is your ship, so by protocol you are the captain. Nevertheless, we will work on the titles.” That said, Siri turned to leave.

            “I appreciate it. And one more thing before you go.”

            “Yes?”

            “I caught some tension from Riik and Arla during the intros. Are they going to be a problem?”

            “Riik is very… passionate about how quarians are treated. Arla has pride issues. Neither of them trust humans. Show them you can be trusted and you’ll have resolved most of their issues with you.”

            Kevin could imagine the smile on her face as she explained that. “Great,” he said with false enthusiasm.

            Siri took this moment to bow her head to Kevin before she turned around and made her way out of the briefing room.

            Kevin let out a sigh. Though successful, the extraction did not go nearly as well as he had hoped. Now they were on their way back to the mapped and already explored parts of the galaxy, and he wondered if they would even have the fuel to get back to the Melkanis relay now. _Damnit. This is what I get for being impulsive,_ he thought. He figured he’d have to apologize to Ralik, but at a later time. He'd let the salarian's disappointment dissipate first. After that, he'd have to figure out how to bring the news to Tarsil.

            Kevin was once again faced with a recurring dilemma: what to do next? Between bereavement and sleep, he estimated the quarians would be in do-not-disturb mode for at least ten to twelve hours. There was always more work to be done with the audio logs in his data archive, but he still felt like he had just finished listening to a bunch. If he burned himself out, he'd never want to finish. Amidst all these thoughts, an audible grumble originating from Kevin's innards quickly made the decision on the short term objective. He hadn't used much for biotics during the extraction other than a few barriers, but he didn't eat anything beforehand either. He'd figure out what to do over a nice hot meal. With his helmet resting between his right forearm and his hip, he made his way to the mess hall.

            There, Kevin made himself a unreasonably supersized meal of the casual variety but with plenty of cheese and spice. He was only cooking for himself this time since Ralik still hadn't emerged from the depths of the Kellius, and that gave him extra freedom. Despite not having anyone to converse with, he took his time and enjoyed his modest creation. He wasn't all that great of a cook, but he was good at winging it. Most of his cooked meals came together in the last few minutes of the process without him planning it. Luckily no one has had the misfortune of trying one of his failed experiments. As he enjoyed his meal in the stillness of the otherwise empty room, he decided that a quick inventory of the cargo hold was in order. With all the new stuff down there, there was likely a lot of reorganization to be had.

            After he finished up with his meal, he went to his room to change out of the hardsuit and into his usual casual garments. He grabbed a datapad from the desk and headed down to the cargo hold, not bothering to see where Ralik was or if the quarians were settled or not. They were marines. They didn't need babysitting. On his way down, he realized that he had totally forgotten where he had put his breather helmet. It was certainly an important piece of his gear, so he backtracked to check. He stepped back into his room only to discover that it wasn't there. He backtracked further and found it tucked under the table where he ate. Irritated that forgetfulness was striking yet again, he tucked the helmet under his arm and went straight down to the cargo hold before he could forget what he was doing in the first place.

            The moment Kevin walked into the crowded cargo hold he put his helmet down and set himself to work. He checked to make sure everything they stored before taking the quarians in was still in its proper place. It was a good thing he checked, too, as some of the crates holding beverages and food had been moved in order to make space for the things the quarians had brought aboard. He updated the locations of those crates in the ship's inventory logs and moved onto documenting all the new items. Each crate the quarians brought aboard was labeled and listed the contents right on the front, as per the galactic standard loading procedures. It seemed Kortel ran a tight ship. Unfortunately, Kevin could not read quarian and he currently didn’t have the necessary programs on his omni-tool to translate or read them, so he made due by peeking into any crates that were not locked to get an idea of what each held.

            This mundane, yet necessary task ate up at least a few hours, and reorganizing the crates to better suit the inventory system took another few hours still. Back in the Systems Alliance, this sort of work was assigned to someone in charge of lower deck upkeep and inventory management, but here on the Kellius, Ralik and he were assigned _all_ the roles. The basic run of a ship bigger than a simple fighter was becoming more and more clear to him, and while he found a sense of minor dignity in maintaining a ship-wide inventory, he could not dismiss the utter lack of interest. His boredom made waiting for the quarians to recover mind-numbing, but he figured he’d wait for one to emerge to find out when their recovery was complete.

            Still, he was _so bored_. Ralik was probably messing up engineering, and he had no patience for that right. He needed to unwind a bit, and he decided Club Kellius was the cure for the itch. He just wanted to hear some of his favorite music and bob his head to familiar rhythms.

            Once inside the entertainment room, he dimmed the ambient light, activated the podium, and started up a custom playlist. He wasn't an actual DJ by any stretch, but expensive software programs such as those loaded into the podium made such a job so simple that kids with some amount talent could do it. The songs automatically transitioned properly via built in markers, so all he had to do was pick his list of tracks and off it went. The volume was raised and soon enough, Kevin's bobbing head and tapping foot rose to a moderately embarrassing dance, luckily away from prying eyes.

            Or so he thought.

            Only about an hour into his obscenely long five hundred and thirty-eight hour playlist, Kevin suddenly noticed that there was another person in the room. It was one of the quarians. Bela'Merni, in fact. When Kevin suddenly stopped his dance and dropped the song volume, Bela burst out into laughter.

            “Keelah! _Please_ tell me you don't _always_ dance like that!”

            He knew she couldn't see it in the dim, quickly shifting light, but his face was flush. Denying it was pointless, so he just went along with it. “Yeah, that was pretty bad, huh? Last time I try to make up a dance on my own.”

            Bela wasn't done. “Wow, if I tried that back home I'd be laughed right out of the flotilla!” She nearly fell to her knees from running out of breath.

            “Alright, I get it. Geez. Look, are you here for something or just looking around? I thought you guys were recovering.” Kevin stilled the lights and brightened the room. The music continued to play, but he brought it down to background levels.

            “They are, but I’m done,” Bela stated. “Too much. Ancestor this, ancestor that. Love those guys to death and all, but I can only take so much of asking the dead to watch the dead. I got fed up and started to wander. Stepped into the room labeled 'Entertainment', and right away it lived up to its name.”

            “Yeah,” Kevin said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Again, I wasn't expecting anyone. And for the record, I _don't_ always dance like that.” Kevin raised his arms out wide. “So? What do you think? Pretty sweet, yeah?”

            “’Pretty sweet’ is an understatement, I think,” Bela mused. “This is incredible! Beyond anything I've ever seen! An open room _this big_ dedicated to dance and good times? It's like having your own personal club! I think I’ll survive the trip back after all.”

            “You guys like to dance?” Kevin asked with a raised brow.

            “Just about all of us! We're all young enough to appreciate the noise and the motions and the lights. Well, except for the captain, but don't tell her I said that. She still likes to dance though, if you can manage to get her to move off the wall she's normally leaning on.”

            “That's. . .” Kevin paused and nodded. “That's pleasantly surprising. Especially since Ralik is such a bore. Maybe I'll at least have some people to dance with until we reach the Migrant Fleet.”

            “Maybe once we're all done exchanging sob stories, you can host a dance party for us! What do you think?” She gestured at the podium. “You've obviously got the gear and the atmosphere, and I'm sure the others wouldn't mind a little dancing to break off all the sorrow.”

            Kevin's face broke into a full-fledged smile. He was beaming at this. “Sure thing. Just let me know when you all want to have some fun and I'll break out the playlist.”

            “Let me see, let me see! I bet you have some insane tech up there.” Bela came running up the short stairs of the podium, almost knocking Kevin over the waist high railings.

            “Yeah, sure, just… Don't touch anything! It’s all in order!”

            While Bela practically drooled over the equipment that ran the room's systems, Kevin just leaned back onto the railing and crossed his arms. For some reason he was already enjoying having other people around and all she was doing was obsessing over the tech. It was strange, considering how much of a loner he had been since he left the military. It didn't bother him, though. Her excessive energy was endearing. Maybe she was still running off of leftover adrenaline, because she was springy as hell and clearly wound up. Kevin wondered if the constant distraction was her coping mechanism for dealing with the loss.

            “Damn! These are brand new models! Not cutting edge, but still brand new!” Her hands floated over the multiple haptic interfaces, practically begging to start tweaking things.

            Kevin stood up straight and pulled her hands away from the screens. “Maybe when you're not so overtired I'll show you how to run some of it. I've only been dabbling with the gear for a few days now, but I think I've pretty much got it figured.”

            Bela pulled her hands back and looked down to the flat, empty floor below. “Screw it. Folner, hit the lights and crank some tracks.”

            Kevin scratched his chin and smiled warily. “Shouldn't you be heading to bed or soemthing?”

            “Are you serious?” Bela questioned while she skipped down the stairs to center herself on the dance floor. “I'm on the verge of passing out from exhaustion and you want me to go back to that ho-hum? No, no. Forget that. It's been a long time since I've had the chance to dance to this stuff, and I’d rather be doing that then getting depressed over things I can’t change.”

            Kevin chuckled to himself. “She really is quite the firecracker. Well, she asked for it.”

            He manipulated the controls to bring the ambiance back down and used the wall screens to pulse abstract shapes and change the colors of the room appropriate to the dark and fast dance track that just started to mix in. A rather minor adjustment in volume brought it to heart-pounding levels and the stage was set. It was Club Kellius's grand debut with two seasoned club goers as the VIPs. Kevin's head had barely started bobbing when the quarian down below was yelling at him.

            “Hey, Folner! Get down here already! You know how this works, right? I need a dance partner!”

            Kevin wasn't about to let the lady stand alone, of course. He'd never danced with a quarian before, so this was sure to be a unique experience. He hopped on down and joined the fiery Bela'Merni on the dance floor.

            In Kevin's experience, it was awkward to say the least. The helmet she wore blotted out facial expressions, and he generally relied upon those to get emotional reads since chatter was impractical with the volume so high. Additionally, her suit wasn't the softest thing in the world and made the occasional close contact dance a bit less comfortable than the soft skin of an asari. These differences, however, failed to diminish a good time had. He could at least hear her voice in high spirits, even if he couldn't fully understand her over the music, and she was great dancer on top of it all. He had heard quarians loved to dance, but he never really believed it until now.

            Two hours later, she was _still going_. When the current song started to mix down, she simply stopped dancing and looked up. Kevin heard her say something about finally being tired and she slowly started to head for the door. She only made it half of the way before she simply collapsed.

            _Ah, crap. Should have seen that coming_ , Kevin thought with a shake of his head. _At least she got what she wanted, though. Passed right out from dancing._

            He quickly ran up the podium and stopped all music and light effects. The room returned to its classic lit state and Kevin wasted no time getting back to the poor girl. “Alright, time for you to head back. It’s passed your bed time, missy.”

            Bending down, he scooped her up into his arms. Despite the fact that she had removed all the dangling gear she was still lighter than he had expected. He had assumed the exosuit they wore was heavier than it actually seemed, more akin to the kind of hardsuit he wore. At least this would make carrying her back to the crew quarters easy. With an exhausted quarian girl in his arms, he stepped out of the wildly successful Club Kellius and headed for the stairwell down to deck two. He hesitated about disturbing the quarians, but he reasoned that they would want their fellow marine resting with them and not in a chair upstairs. He stood in front of the door and gave it a few quick taps with the toe of his boot.

            A long thirty seconds later, the door opened and the person to greet him was none other than captain Kortel. When she and the others saw the state of Bela, they all jumped up and rushed to the door behind their captain. Riik was already spouting accusations.

            “Bela! What did you do to her, Folner? I swear, if you so much as--” Riik was cut off by his captain.

            “Shut it, Votis. Go sit down and let me handle it. I highly doubt he would harm her then bring her to our door.”

            Riik made it clear that he had other things to say, but fortunately his respect for his captain outweighed his rash anger. He and the others reluctantly dispersed into the room, all staring at their captain, the human, and the incapacitated quarian in his arms.

            Siri checked her omni-tool. “Her vitals are fine, save for a low heart rate. Care to explain, Folner?”

            “It was simple, actually,” Kevin stated. “She stumbled upon my entertainment room while I was playing some dance tracks and got carried away on the dance floor. In short, I think she over-exhausted herself dancing her sorrows away.”

            “Dance floor?” Kortel asked, confused. It then hit her and she laughed. “I see. And you were her escort, then?”

            “And her dance partner. None of it by choice, as it seemed.” They shared a chuckle as they looked upon the helpless quarian girl.

            “With the Merni clan, it rarely is,” Kortel explained. “Thank you for bringing her back, Folner. And for helping her find her release. It was not easy seeing her trapped inside herself for the past few hours.” She motioned for Kevin to come in. Kevin accepted her brief offer and stepped into the room to lay Bela down on a bed.

            Kar curiously piped in at that moment, having only heard a portion of the conversation. “What's this about a dance floor?”

            “Don't worry,” Kevin said as he adjusted Bela’s pillow, “I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when she wakes up.”

            The vague answer only left all but the captain looking at each other in confusion. Kevin smiled, and with no intent on lingering, he started on his way out. Siri passed him a thankful, silent nod before addressing her company.

            “I think it is time we all followed Merni's example for a change. We are all in dire need of rest.”

            Kevin didn't get to hear or see the reactions of the others before the door closed behind him, but he was pretty sure there were daggers hitting him in the back from the stares of Riik and possibly from Arla. Either way, he also thought it was time to grab some shut-eye. Between the battle, the inventory and Bela's impromptu dance extravaganza, he was just about wiped. It had crossed his mind to check on Ralik and make sure that there was still a functioning drive core in place, but if Ralik were going to accidentally reconfigure the drive core, he’d have done it by now. Or at least TERA would have blared some warnings or something.

            Back up in his quarters, he took a hot shower and laid down in bed. It had been a long time since a bed felt this good, and his eyes fell shut.


End file.
